Family Ties
by MissTinfoilHat
Summary: On his 16th birthday, Edward Elric leaves the orphanage that has been his home for the last 12 years. With only one arm, one leg and a wooden crutch he makes his way to Central, the only place he could think of going. There, his distrust in the people around him gets challanged, and he realizes that he might not be as thick skinned as he think he is.
1. Chapter 1

**Hello! From today, I will revisit the first chapters (and probably more) of this story! Some of the author's notes will disappear because I can not for the life of me find the older chapters on my list, so I guess they have "expired".**

**Anyway, I just really want to thank everyone who's been reading this story and following along. This is the first fanfiction I've ever written, and it's been such an amazing and therapeutic way for me to deal with a difficult time in my life. It's so bittersweet that I've nearly completed it now. I know I've said that before, but now's the time. **

**So, thank you all so much. And for any new readers; I hope you'll enjoy it! If you start before I'm able to get to all the more "problematic" chapters, please rest assured that they will be updated shortly and that the later chapters are easier to digest (thank you, Grammarly). To my defense, I'm not a native English-speaker.**

* * *

Revisited 24th of May 2020  
  
Chapter 1: Going home to where it's better than before

Colonel Roy Mustang was the first to stand up as the speakers on their train announced that they would shortly arrive at Central Station. He took his uniform hat on, and grabbed his jacket as First Lt. Riza Hawkeye and Second Lt. Jean Havoc followed his lead, grabbing their baggage and lingered not far behind.

"As soon as we get back to the headquarters, I want First L.t Hawkeye to call Colonel Stat and ask for a list of the names of anyone who've set foot in the Bellings Hotel for the past three months. If he's not cooperating, you can tell him to stick that damn report firmly up his-"

"I'll make him cooperate," Hawkeye cut him off, no emotion in her words. She was always professional. On some rare occasions, you could catch a glimpse of humanity, but as sudden as it would occur, she would slip back into her professional demeanor. They started walking through their wagon as the train slowed down. Roy continued on giving commands and ranting about his frustration over the case they were working on, switching his attention from the path in front of him and his subordinates.

"As soon as you get any leads, you will report back directly to me...Oh!" he exclaimed as he bumped into something.

A child fell with surprising force to the floor.

"What in the..?" Roy murmured, brushing off his jacket. "Watch where you're going, you little..."

"I dare you to finish that sentence-" the child yelled, clutching his left fist as if ready to take on the three military officers. He was wearing a knitted sweater, too big for him, and a beanie. His long blonde hair hung loosely around his shoulders. He had big golden eyes, that angrily stared up towards them from his spot, sprawled out on the floor.

"What are you talking abou-" Roy tried to ask, as he realized that the kid was missing both his right arm and left leg. His pant leg and sleeve were tied in firm knots where his limbs were supposed to be. He had been walking with a crutch.

The dread struck Roy hard, as he realized that he had, intentionally or not, pushed a small, disabled child to the floor. He felt his face become overheated, mortification painting his cheeks crimson red.

"Hey, calm down little dude," Lt. Havoc said with a small laugh, trying to disarm the situation.

"Don't call me little!"

The other passengers had begun to stare, and the people getting off were waiting impatiently to get past them.

"Just... we're blocking the way. Let me help you up," Roy said between gritted teeth and reached his hand towards the boy.

"I don't need your help," the child snarled, struggling to regain his balance while the train braked, slowing down in front of the station. When it finally stopped completely, the child fell once more by the force of the heavy machinery stopping.

"For God's sake..." Roy muttered and grabbed the child by his arm, yanking him up from the ground.

"Hey!" the kid cried out, and forcefully withdrew his arm from the bigger and intimidating man, jumping on his one leg over to steady himself against the wall. The three officers looked at each other.

"Where are your parents, kid?" Havoc asked.

"I'm not a kid."

Roy rolled his eyes.

"Where are your parents?" Roy snapped and stepped warningly towards the small child with a deep, angry furrow between his eyes. He was known as a very impatient man already, and there was something with this kid that really rubbed him the wrong way.

"We need to get off the train," Hawkeye interrupted, stepping in front of her superior officer and picked up the crutch, giving it back to the boy.

"Thanks," the kid murmured quietly, accepting the wooden crutch and placed it under his arm.

"Lt. Havoc, take the kid's baggage," Roy instructed flatly.

"Not a kid," the boy muttered.

"Shut up... Lt. Havoc, take the not a kid's baggage, and escort him off the train."

"Colonel, are you sure you're not letting your frustrations out on him? I think you're overreacting," Hawkeye said silently, walking closely behind as Roy stepped off the train.

"I just want to know about his parents. I'd like to give them a piece of my mind about their son," he barked in response.

"I'm not sure you're the right person to give parental advice..."

"Don't touch me! I don't need your help!"

They both turned around, looking towards the kid on top of the steep steps of the train exit. Havoc was standing behind him, throwing his hands up, claiming his innocence in mock surrender. The kid leaned heavily on his crutch, before placing it down on the middle step and jumped to the ground.

"See?" he told Havoc, gleaming with poorly subdued pride. Roy would never admit to it, but he was a little impressed, but soon found back to his grumpy old self.

"Lt. Havoc, where is his baggage?"

"He said that was it." Havoc pointed to the kid's backpack that hung from one strap over the kid's one shoulder. Roy sighed.

"Fine. What is your name?"

The child ignored him and started to walk in the opposite direction.

"Hey!" Roy shouted after him, grabbing the kid's shoulder.

"I told you not to touch me!" he growled and shrugged the colonel off. "I haven't done anything."

"You are a child, all alone in Central City. You won't tell me your name, or where your parents are."

"I'm 16!" the child answered. Roy raised his eyebrows.

"Do you have identification?"

"No."

"Then I don't think we have any other choice but to hold you up at the headquarters until we can find your parents. Central isn't a place for a lone child."


	2. Chapter 2

Revisited the 24th of May 2020

Chapter 2: You can stand me up at the gates of hell but I won't back down

Roy dropped wearily down into his office chair. Finally clearheaded, he realized that he probably _had_ let his frustrations loose on the kid. There was no way of winning this pointless battle anyway, as he now had to use manpower to look for the kid's parents, instead of working on the case he had in front of him. Papers were scattered all over his wooden desk, and he was absolutely overwhelmed.

There was a knock on his office door.

"Yeah," he answered, rubbing his fingers between his eyes.

First Lieutenant Hawkeye entered the room in her usual low-key manner.

"Colonel," she greeted with a curt nod. "I just wanted to let you know, that your..._ juvenile friend,_ has told me his name."

"...and you're telling me this, because...?"

"Because he said his name was Edward Elric, sir."

Roy abruptly stopped his head massage and opened his eyes.

"As in Edward Elric Hoenheim?" he asked.

"He just said Edward Elric, sir."

Roy sighed. "That is obviously not one of Hoenheim's sons."

"Just in case, I brought you the file we have on Edward Elric."

Something told Roy that she was not too happy with him, and interrupted his work just to prove her point. He decided to humor her, and accepted the file.

"Hmm..." he said ceremoniously with a slight shimmer in his eye. "Edward Elric Hoenheim... Born October 11th, 1899 in Risembool... Son of military official Van Hoenheim."

He looked up at Hawkeye with a smirk, expecting her to state her point.

"Keep reading," was all she said.

"...Van Hoenheim left the family in October 1902, died 22 of July 1914 in Central... After that... raised by mother, Trisha Elric... blablabla, dead November 17th, 1903... The older brother of Alphonse Elric Hoenheim..."

Roy went silent.

"What does it say?" she probed, but Roy understood that she already knew.

"...also died November 17th, 1903. A housefire... That left Edward severely injured, eventually losing his right arm and left leg to the severe burns. After that, he was moved to an orphanage in Drachma, for... boys with behavioral issues and special needs... where he was deemed crippled, with severe Posttraumatic Stress Disorder."

He slowly laid the file back on the table.

"So, it's really him."

"Seems that way. There's a picture on the last page. It's probably over ten years old, but..."

He flipped the pages, and sure enough. A young Edward Elric. Same blonde hair, not as long though, and the same golden eyes, looking into the camera with a curious look in his eyes. All Roy could do was to utter a shuttering inhale.

"Well, then I guess you can just let him go."

"I think you should do it."

Roy recognized _Riza_ talking, not his first lieutenant._ This was his childhood friend, from before the military, and before the war._

"Hah, don't make me laugh, lieutenant," he snarled unamused.

"Do you think he knows his father is dead?" Riza dead-panned, a no-nonsense look on her face.

Roy startled. "How the hell am I supposed to know?"

"It's the 14h of October," she stated, unaffected. "He turned 16 five days ago."

"And?"

"_And_, being in the state he is in, we can assume that he never got adopted. At least there's nothing in his file about it."

Roy stared at her, expectantly.

"And with him _just_ turning 16, would mean that he was allowed to leave the Drachma Orphanage on his own. And now he's in Central, where his father, and as far as he probably knows, last living relative, worked. Do you think that's a coincidence?"

Roy didn't want to deal with this. He was tired after the long train ride, his back was sore and his migraine was dancing some sort of experimental dance behind his eyes. He didn't even know Hoenheim that well, much less his family. The thought of the young Elric kid, who had no one left, crept into his mind. He imagined that Edward had taken what little he had, used it to purchase a train ticket and taken the train from Drachma, hoping to reunite with his long lost father- _No!_ He could _not_ think like this,_ or feel_ these things.

He shook his head and made a noise that came out whinier than he had meant it to.

"Fine! I'll talk to the kid."

He rose from his chair and stomped past Hawkeye.

"Good decision, sir," she said, raising her hand in salute as he passed by.

* * *

Roy kept his firm march all the way to the HQ's holding cells, and shivered as the smell of sewage and old sweat violated his nostrils. He looked into each cell, getting catcalled or cursed at, as he passed by.

In the fifth cell, he found Edward.

He had been put in with another man. His cellmate was _huge_. At least 6'3, with a highly muscular physique, as well as he was shirtless. Roy made notice of the gang-related tattoos he bore just before he realized that the man was bleeding profusely from his nose.

Clutching to it, the large man sat in the opposite corner of the cell from Edward, who was slumped down in the other corner.

_There couldn't be a connection._

"Elric?" Roy said, tale between his legs. Ed had his arm covering his chest as if a phantom right arm was also folded across his chest while ignoring the Colonel blatantly.

"Edward Elric!" Roy repeated, more firmly. Ed still didn't budge.

Roy moaned in exasperation and unlocked the cell, reached out and grabbed the boy by his arm.

"Hey..." Edward exclaimed as he was dragged out of the cell.

"Where is your crutch?" Roy asked as he closed the grid. In the corner of his eye, he could see the large man flinch as he said it, but he kept his gaze on Ed, who actually looked a bit apologetic.

Roy looked to the man still in the cell, then back to Ed. "What did you do?"

Ed didn't answer.

"Are you trying to tell me that you broke this guy's nose with your crutch?"

"No," Ed denied in his own defense. "_He_ broke _it!_"

"He broke your crutch?"

"Yeah. So I... broke his nose."

Roy closed his eyes and inhaled deeply, calming himself down.

"I'm sorry I asked."

Roy didn't loosen the grip around the kid's arm. How could he let go? Edward didn't have his crutch and had no way of getting around.

"Come on," Roy suddenly decided. "I wanna talk to you in my office."

There wasn't much Edward could do but obey; the older man was a lot stronger than him, and Ed couldn't really do anything but follow wherever he went. That didn't mean he had to make it _pleasant_ though.

All of a sudden he decided to stop moving, falling to the floor as Roy tried to drag him along, making the job a lot harder.

"For the love of God..."

* * *

_...well, this wasn't quite what Ed had in mind._

His hand was handcuffed, and his body strapped to a wheelchair that the holding cells apparently had available for transportation of difficult inmates. That was _not_ part of his plan. That _bastard_ had even threatened with a mask they put on the inmates who were prone to sharing their saliva with them.

"I thought you wanted me to talk," Ed had smirked, but quickly retired, as the _shithead Colonel_ seemed dangerously close to acting out on his threats. So, Ed was now wheeled from the holding cells, through a long hallway in complete silence.

_At least for a short while._

"I know you just left an orphanage in Drachma," Colonel Shithead suddenly said.

_An orphanage, really? It was a prison, or an institution, _maybe_. But definitely not an orphanage. _

Ed decided to exercise his right to remain silent.

"How did you get the money for the train ride?"

_This idiot didn't seem like the kind of guy to make small talk._ Neither was Ed, so he spat out, "I played my_ fucking violin."_

The wheelchair stopped abruptly, jerking him forward and he heard a sharp inhale, then an exhale, followed by the major asshole mumbling under his breath, "what...have I got myself in to?"


	3. Chapter 3

Revisited the 24th of May 2020

Chapter 3: I'm never gonna know you now, but I'm gonna love you anyhow

Curious faces turned towards the two as they entered the office area in front of Roy's own office. Havoc reached his hand up in a wave, greeting Edward sheepishly as they walked by. To Roy's surprise, Ed signaled back, to the extent he could as his only hand was cuffed to the armrest of the wheelchair. Hawkeye gave Roy a venomous glare of disapproval, so Roy defiantly closed the door to his office while keeping unrelenting eye contact with Hawkeye.

He parked the chair across his desk and sat down, folding his hands on the counter in front of him.

"What are you doing in Central?" he asked, straight to the point.

"Am I being interrogated?" Edward asked with a scowl.

"No, just... making conversation," Roy said, trying to sound mundane.

"Well, it's none of your business, Major _Buttwhipe_."

"It's _Colonel!_"

"Sorry. _Colonel_ Buttwhipe."

"But for the love of..."

Roy took a deep breath to calm himself down. "My _name_ is _Colonel_ Roy Mustang."

Ed thought about it for a bit.

"Nah, I prefer Colonel Buttwhipe."

Roy made a mental note to _never_ come _close_ to feel humanity towards another person ever again.

"_Fine_, _pipsqueak_."

Ed's face turned red, clearly readying a rant about how his size was completely irrelevant and _perfectly _normal. Roy grinned back.

"Listen, I realize now that there was no reason to take you in, so I... am sorry about that."

Roy paused to give room for a retort. When he didn't get an answer, he continued, "I assume you're in Central to look for your father."

Ed's golden eyes widened, but gathered himself and turned his head away with a sneer.

"I'm not..."

Ed stopped himself.

"Edward..."

"I'm _not_ looking for Hohenheim!"

"Your father is dead."

"And stop calling him my_ father, he left us-"_

It seemed like the air went out of the boy as the news hit him.

"I'm sorry."

Ed was still processing. Finally, he spoke.

"No."

He shook his head.

"I don't care. I wasn't looking for him. Central was just... someplace to go," he muttered silently.

Roy looked at him, crossing his arms.

"Where are you gonna go?" he asked calmly.

Ed shrugged his shoulders.

"Does it matter?" he answered.

"Yeah, I think it does. It's freezing outside."

"What do _you_ care?"

"I don't."

"So why'd you ask?"

They both went silent for a moment. Roy couldn't help but blame himself a little, for not handling the situation more carefully. Ed was the one who finally broke the silence.

"Then why don't you just let me go?"

Roy sighed through his nose.

"I will. But first I'm going to call our medical team and get you a new crutch. Maybe a blanket."

Ed's face softened a bit, as he turned to face his lap.

"Thanks, but that's... You don't need to do that."

Roy raised an eyebrow, and couldn't help but to ask, "...then how are you going to get around?".

Ed didn't look up, but suddenly let out a silent scoff.

"I can handle myself."

Roy buried his face in his hands.

"I am _not_ letting you go until I can get you a new crutch and a blanket. And that's the end of that."

Ed decided to ignore the older man as he reached for the phone placed on his desk.

Roy looked intently towards his cuffed guest when he noticed that Ed's foot was shaking restlessly. Hesitating a minute, he wondered if he should ask if the kid was okay, but decided against it. He wasn't in the mood for any more rejection from the brat. He dialed the number to their medical team, and told them to bring the crutch and blanket. When asked what size he needed the crutch, he answered _fun-sized_, _finally_ getting somewhat of a reaction from Edward.

Ed glared at him with fire in his eyes, while Roy confirmed the medics size suggestion. He thanked them and hung up the phone.

"They'll be right up."

* * *

Equipped with his new crutch and the blanked added to his slouchy backpack, Ed hobbled out of the office as fast as he could, ignoring the curious and concerned stares that were following him through the offices.

He followed the hallway, and tried to get oriented, not sure which way was outside. Sweating profusely, he steadied his armless side to the rail down a wide staircase, leading down to a large room, assuming it might be some sort of reception. He was right. Struggling down the steps and through the reception, he had _one_ goal in mind. _Getting the hell out of there._

After all his years in Drachma, he'd grown anxious of confined spaces, and being caged and then cuffed to a wheelchair certainly didn't help. He'd held it in as well as he could, but now, all he wanted was fresh air and to scream, or maybe even fight someone. Just _some _outlet.

* * *

Finally outside, he cherished the chill breeze across his face.

_Shit, more stairs,_ he thought, feeling the ground under him, cold and slippery.

Instead of pushing his luck, he decided to jump over the wide stone railings, embroidering the front of the large building, leading to a large patch of grass. It couldn't be _that_ high.

He leaned over to look over the railing and estimated that there was about a 6'5 foot drop. _No problem._

He threw his crutch over, and then sat down on the railing, giving himself a push with his arm.

The ground was covered in snow, with grass underneath. The landing wasn't as smooth as he had planned. Trying to land on his foot, he slipped and instead landed on his back.

He coughed, having had the wind knocked out of him.

After catching his breath, he looked around. It didn't seem that anyone had noticed his less than graceful landing. He should get going he thought but decided to stay seated as he realized his foot didn't want to hold his weight anymore. He'd probably twisted it a little.

He felt paralyzed, as once again it dawned upon him.

_Hoenheim was dead_.

It wasn't like he actually _wanted_ to see him. It wasn't like he had _expected_ to arrive at Central, _tracking him down, and have some sort of _happy _family _reunion_._

Central was the only place he had thought to go when he finally was able to get out of that dreadful place. The only thing that had kept him going the twelve years being a prisoner in that place, was the thought of _someday_ getting _out_.

He clutched his ankle and recalled a couple of days ago when the day finally had arrived.

* * *

He hadn't slept all night. At 6 o'clock, he gathered up the few items he owned.

Two shirts, two pairs of underwear, one extra change of socks, one pair of pants, one pair of woolen socks and two books. That was it.

When the guards, not social workers, not nurses, not caretakers, _guards_, went their morning round about half an hour later, they told him that it was time to leave.

After all these years he had never seen anyone protest, but still, they apparently felt the need to grab his shoulders, guiding him outside and locking the gate behind him. Leaving him there just like that.

No breakfast, no happy birthday, no good luck and no goodbyes.

To be honest, he didn't feel the need to say goodbye to anyone anyway. Breakfast would have been nice, though. Even if it was just a slice of dried-up bread.

This was his first time on the other side of those gates in twelve years. It was in the middle of nowhere, and the snow was deep, as it usually was in Drachma.

Except for the tire tracks in the road, the snow reached him above the knee. He decided to follow the tire tracks, hoping it would lead him towards somewhere he'd be able to get to a train station from.

* * *

He didn't know for how long he had hobbled around in the snow, but it just didn't seem to lead anywhere.

His fingers felt stiff and numb with a tingling sensation. Looking at his hand, he realized his hand had gotten very pale. His armpit was sore from where the crutch was pressing, and his leg felt shaky. The long sleeves on his knitted sweater already covered his hand by the length of it, but he tried to swirl it around his hand, making it a bit more compact so the wind wouldn't blow through it so easily.

Having to settle with that, he continued on his way.

After another while, he stopped. What is that sound?

He turned around, spotting a dark pickup truck, driving up behind him. Drachma was filled with criminals, and he knew he should be extremely careful if traveling by himself.

The dark vehicle slowed down, stopping behind him. The snow had been falling continuously ever since he started to walk, the wind increasing, and he knew that he wasn't far from frostbite. If he continued like this, he'd risked hypothermia.

An older, but somewhat familiar man opened the door and stepped out of the truck.

"Hey, you're from that institution, right?" he asked, shielding his face from the snow with his sleeve.

Ed nodded warily, trying to place the man.

"My name is Ivan Pomosh," the elderly man told him. "I used to deliver food to you guys," he told him before pausing. "I retired a couple of years ago, but I remember you."

"You delivered food to us?" Ed asked suspiciously.

"Yeah," Ivan answered.

"...what'd you do to the food?"

Ivan gave him a crooked smile.

"Yeah, I know. It wasn't much, and of poor quality. I'm sorry. There wasn't anything I could do about that."

Ivan rubbed his arms as a frigid gust hit them, tearing at loose clothes.

"I still drive these roads every day. I always keep an eye out for kids like you, coming from the orphanage. I assume it's your 16th birthday?"

Ed responded with a slight nod. Ivan smiled warmly.

"Then let me give you a ride into town. You know where you're going?"

Ed hesitated. Most kids learned not to trust strangers, but Ed had learned to trust _no one_. Actually, considering the people he had met to this point in his life, he would rather take his chances with a stranger.

"How far to the train station?" Ed asked eventually.

"I thought as much," Ivan smiled. "About an hour's drive from here."

Ed decided that he didn't really have a choice anyway. There was nothing to lose. In this weather, and at his pace, he'd freeze to death before he could get there anyway.

"Okay," he finally answered. "Would you be able to take me?"

"Of course. I was already heading that way."

Ed got in the car and sunk down in the front seat. His leg was aching from the exertion, and probable frostbite to his toes and fingers as well. And now, feeling his pulse slowing down, he could also feel how much his stumps hurt. They had always been sensitive to the weather, especially rain and snow.

"All right, here we go. Happy birthday kiddo," Ivan said cheerily and started the truck. Ed was too exhausted to respond, even though the old man had called him a kid _twice_. He'd note it down for later he thought, as he felt his eyes getting heavier. He fell asleep within minutes.

* * *

Waking up, he realized that he was curled up in the seat, and had been covered with a thin woolen blanket. It itched, but he didn't feel as cold anymore. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, yawning.

"Have you slept well?" Ivan asked. Ed startled a bit.

"Yeah," he smiled tiredly.

"I didn't wanna wake you. This weather is escalating to a blizzard," Ivan explained, waving his hand towards the window.

Ed looked outside. It had gotten dark, and the snow was hitting the windshield at high speed, and the cracks in the doors were howling from the wind.

"So, it's going to take a little longer than expected to get to town. But we'll get there eventually."

Sitting back up, Ed covered himself tightly in the blanket.

"Thank you," he answered, feeling grateful that Ivan had driven by when he did. An hour later and he'd be buried in the snow.

"So," Ivan started, looking to Ed, smiling. "What's your name?"

Ed thought about lying but decided against it.

"Edward," he answered. Ivan nodded affirmatively.

"Edward. Nice to meet you."

* * *

Finally arriving at the train station, Ed thanked Ivan whole-heatedly for the ride. After falling asleep he had forgotten all about the worries he initially had about getting in the car. He had actually had a pleasant time, listening to Ivan telling him about his wife, children and grandchildren, and stories about his youth in a war-ridden Drachma.

As Ed opened the car door, the old man reached out, holding on to his shoulder. Ed felt his body tense, even though the touch was gentle. His instinct was _not_ that a hand on his shoulder was supposed to be gentle. The man didn't let go until Ed turned to face him.

"I don't know what it is. You don't talk much, but I have a good feeling about you. Where are you heading to?"

"Central," Ed answered without hesitation.

"Central? Well, okay. Everybody's got to pave their own path I guess," he said with a snicker. "I don't usually do this, but..." He reached into his pocket and brought out a brown, worn leather wallet. There were a couple of bills in it, and he reached them out towards Ed. When he didn't express any motion of accepting the money, Ivan gave him a sad smile.

"C'mon, kid. Take it. At least it will be enough to buy you a one-way ticket, and my mind will be a little at ease."

Ed looked at Ivan's hand, hesitantly accepting the money.

"Thanks," he said quietly and curled the money into his pocket.

"Take care, son," Ivan said.

"Yeah, you too," Ed replied, finally giving a faint but genuine smile. He was about to slam the car door shut, as he stopped his motion.

"Oh, and by the way," Ed exhaled sharply. _"_

_I'm not a kid!"_


	4. Chapter 4

Revisited 24th of May 2020

Chapter 4: You're open to the skyline, you won't wanna go back home

After he bought his train ticket, Ed figured that he had money left to buy a bottle of water and some fruit.

Money wasn't really a concept he was familiar with. When he was sent to Drachma, he was too young to handle it, and while in Drachma, he didn't have any. Actually, he couldn't remember ever even seeing money. But he had already gained some understanding of it, from what he had gotten in exchange when purchasing the ticket. That was how he was able to estimate how much he could use on food, and what would gain him the most value from his money. He allowed himself to feel optimistic as he sat down on a bench, inside of the station. The bench was hard, but at least he wasn't freezing. He knew he would have to wait for a couple of hours, but it was okay. He had all the time in the world.

But he didn't have that luxury anymore.

He needed someplace to stay, or at least to dry off. Already, his immune system was weak from being a double amputee, and now his pants had gotten wet when from sitting in the snow for too long.

He decided it was time to try and get up again. He reached for his new crutch which he quickly realized was already freezing cold, and he cursed under his breath. The previous crutch was an old wooden one. This new one that Colonel Stinkeye had given him was made of metal. Obviously, it was going to get cold. He blew som hot air on his frozen hand and tried to drag himself off of the frozen ground. A sharp pain erupted on both the inside and outside of his ankle as he tried to put some weight on it, and he was forced to sit back down.

_'Great! Goddammit! Just great!'_

Ed groaned in both frustration and pain.

_'I__ can't even stand up._ _Now what?'_

* * *

It was getting dark, Roy Mustang noticed as he looked up from his work. There was still a lot to do, and all the time wasted on handling that runt hadn't helped with time management. Resting his face in his palms, he couldn't shake the feeling that he should have done something more to help, but he wasn't going to force someone to accept a helping hand from him, that he was resistant to offer in the first place.

There was a knock on his door. He looked at the clock hanging on the wall at the opposite side of the room because of the several times he had sat buried in paperwork, forgetting the time. Once he was still sitting there franticly signing documents with bloodshot eyes as Hawkeye returned to work the following morning. The clock was actually a present from her. It showed a little over half-past seven. Time to get home... About one and a half hours ago.

"Come in," Roy answered. He wasn't surprised when Hawkeye entered.

"You're still here," she said solemnly. It was more of a statement than a question.

"You too," Roy hummed, no-nonsensical.

"You are on overtime, Colonel."

Roy stared at her, not in the mood for any remarks.

"What do you want?" he mumbled, turning his attention to the papers in front of him.

"Have you been worrying about the Elric boy?" she suddenly asked.

Roy looked up at her. A moment of surprise flickered through an obsidian gaze before he quickly sobered.

"Not at all. He seemed to be perfectly fine by himself," he murmured. "He clearly didn't need anyone's help".

"Uhu, If you say so," she stated flatly, clearly unconvinced.

Mustang once again turned his attention towards _whatever-the-hell-he-didn't-even-know_ he had just signed, but quickly turned back towards Riza.

"I don't have any kind of responsibility to that boy," Roy argued.

"No, you don't," Riza agreed.

"So, why are you so sure that I am _worried _about him?"

"You're clearly not," she nodded as if she was agreeing with him entirely.

"Sure, am I a little concerned that he's all by himself in Central?" he asked rhetorically and added, "right after I told him that his father died? Yes! Am I not at all affected by the thought of him probably sleeping outside in the cold tonight? Of course, I am! I'm not a monster!"

Crossing her arms, Rize watched him emotionless.

"But you're not..."

"_Not_ worried!"

* * *

Roy tucked his long black coat firmly around himself and threw a maroon-colored scarf around his neck as he wished the cute receptionist at the front desk a good night. Usually he would stop and exchange a couple of words with the young brunette, but he wasn't in the mood tonight. The raven throttled down the stairs, focused solely on getting to his car, but something in his peripheral suddenly grabbed his attention. Frowning, he turned around, looking back towards the stairs.

_Just my luck_.

On the lower steps, sat what looked like a really lost grey blanket. A beanie, white from frost and snow peeked over the shaky mass, hardly recognizable from the firecracker it had been earlier the same day. Roy tried to convince himself that he actually just wanted to leave and go home, but before he could leave he heard his own voice call.

"Elric?" The blanket startled, and two golden eyes peeked up from between the blanket and beanie.

"M'tnk m spnd mm mnkl," the shaky blanket muttered.

"What?" Roy stepped closer, bending down a little towards the heap of frost and fabric.

"I sd..." Ed shook his head, letting the snow covering his top fly and uncovered a sulky and utterly defeated looking expression, "I _think_ I _sprained_ my _ankle!"_

Roy sighed.

"Of course you did," he uttered, rubbing at his worn-out eyes.

"Well..." Roy covered his face with his hands, contemplating for a moment before he walked up to the boy. In one swift motion, the older man picked Edward up with one hand under his back, and one under his knee.

"What the hell? Hey, let me go- No!" Edward struggled angrily, trashing furiously in the colonel's strong arms, nearly striking him several times.

"Stop that!" Roy barked back, grabbing the squirming blanket even tighter.

* * *

There was a surprising amount of fight left in the boy, considering his injury and pale look. Roy had gotten him into the passenger seat of his car without too many stares from the passerby. He made a point of smiling brightly and waving at anyone giving him suspicious glares, trying to look as little predatorial as he could, while strapping a feral child into his passenger seat. _(All though, Second Lieutenant Havoc had once made a remark that Roy smiling was the most distressing thing he'd seen since the civil war). _

With one last thrust, Edward tried to wiggle his way out of the tightly wrapped blanket. He heard Roy say something, but it sounded like underwater in the midst of his fight.

The impact came suddenly. Ed was forced back to the now with a loud snap and a stinging handprint on his cheek. Stern black eyes peered warningly down at him.

"I _said... _Are you calm?"

Ed grunted, but slid back in the leather seat in defeat. He had lost.

"I'm calm."

* * *

They drove through the streets of Central in complete silence, but through the edge of his eye, Roy could see Edward lean forward, curiously observing everything outside his window. The boy's eyes were tired and glazed over with fatigue, but he forced himself to stay awake, overwhelmed by the sights of the large city. A sharp inhale caught Roy's attention as they drove by the Central library, towering over its neighboring buildings. Ed turned all the way in his seat as they passed the historical structure, not wanting to let it out of his sight.

"Do you like to read?" Roy asked, finally finding something to break the silence.

"Huh?" Ed murmured absently. He was almost sitting the opposite way in his seat at this point. "Have you ever been in there?"

"Inside the library? Yes, many times."

"We hardly had any books in Armestrian when I was in Drachma," Ed confessed and turned back to face the road. "Not a lot of books in Drachman either, for that matter."

"So you do like reading?"

Ed looked at him. "Yeah," he replied with a shy smile. However, the small grin shifted quickly when the car headed off the main road and into a new neighborhood.

"Where are you taking me?" Ed asked alarmed. Roy startled, realizing that he had instinctively driven to his house without giving it a second thought. With a small droplet of sweat ran down his forehead and finding its way down his shirt collar. Roy made a nervous grimace. _How would Edward react to him taking him home? Would it be better to put him in the dorms? It was not really aloud, and the kid could not even walk.  
_  
"We're going home to my place," he stated, trying to make his voice confident and unwavering, while simultaneously assessing how Ed was responding to it.

But, Ed didn't really respond at all. He muttered a soft, "huh," and stared straight ahead, not uttering a single word the rest of the way.


	5. Chapter 5

Revisited the 24th of May 2020 (this will be the last one for tonight, but I will actively continue for the next few days).

Chapter 5: Flashback, warm nights, almost left behind

Roy parked his black Ford in front of a large brick house and climbed out of the car. The house had two stories and a pointed roof with a short metal fence surrounding the chimney. He made his way around the car to open the door for Ed. As Roy reached for the handle, the door burst open, and the 16-year-old swung out along with it.

Roy stared in disbelief, eyes wide and with his arm still stretched out. The blonde shuffled around on the ground, quickly getting back up, with just as much disbelief on his face as his elder was displaying.

"What... are you doing?" Roy finally mustered enough courage to ask.

"Err... Lost my balance. T'was a heavy door," Ed uttered, starting to brush snow off his pants.

"It's not, really," Roy argued, defending his beloved car, stroking the side of the door. Ed looked at the strange sight, arching an eyebrow.

"Did I hurt its feelings?"

Roy stopped his loving caress. "Don't be stupid," he sneered, offended.

"No, no. It's okay," Ed assured, leaning forward to pat the hood. "There, there little one. M'sorry," he consoled.

Roy scoffed at the boy's sarcastic motion towards his beloved car, and pitched forward, reaching for Ed's shirt. A small yelp came from Ed as he was tossed over the black-haired's shoulder and transported towards the entrance of the large house. He got over the instant shock quickly and started to fight again, unappreciative of the manhandling.

"Are you going to fight me every step of the way?" Roy snarled tiredly. Ed swung a fist at Roy's head which the seasoned officer avoided easily.

"Probably," Ed pouted as Roy fidgeted for his keys, making sure to wiggle a bit extra to throw off his aim as he tried to unlock the front door.

* * *

Discarded on an embroidered couch in the living room, Ed was offered a cozy woolen sweater, a cup of tea, and a sandwich. With forced reluctance, he accepted both. _There had to be a catch to all of this. Well, it was clear that he had to put up with this moody old fart, but why was he being so nice? _Ed shuddered at the thought of the man wanting something in return for his favors but quickly shrugged it off. He didn't seem like the type. Also, he was military. And usually, predators didn't have this short of a temper. They couldn't afford to. No, this guy wasn't like that at all. But Ed was not going to trust him just like that. He never did. That man who picked him up in his car, Ivan, was an exception. Ed was a survivor and did what he had to do to keep it that way. He guessed that was what he was doing now too.

He gave his wet sweater to Roy, who placed it over the back of a wooden chair in front of the fireplace. Ed pulled the new sweater over his head, noting that, not surprisingly, it was way too big. But it felt good to wear something dry and warm. Roy sat down on his knees by the fireplace, starting to place firewood in a little structure inside the furnace.

"Wait, what... what are you doing?" Ed asked, abruptly looking absolutely terrified. Roy hesitated a bit, holding up a box of matches.

"I'm getting the fire burning. The house is freezing," Roy explained, a bit perplexed.

"N-no. Please don't-" Ed clutched at his blanket, halfway covering his face.

Bewildered, Roy gazed back at him, but then it dawned on him.

"Your house," he muttered. "Damn it, I should have thought about that." Roy got back up, getting seated beside Edward.

"Listen, kid-"

"Not a kid."

"Listen, Edward. We need to heat up the house, or you're gonna get sick. And the only way to do that is getting the fire burning. Would it help to be in a different room?"

Ed shook his head, not moving his gaze from the fireplace. Roy took a moment to think about it, a deep wrinkle appearing between dark eyebrows.

"What happened, that night?" he finally asked. Ed merely kept shaking his head, albeit, a bit less determined this time.

"I don't remember," he declared intently, shifting his sole arm as if he was crossing it with a phantom limb.

"Yes, you do," Roy prodded in a softer voice.

"N-no."

"You don't have to talk about it if you don't want to. I just thought it might help."

Ed didn't answer.

"I'm pretty good at building fires you know. I was an Eagle Scout," Roy offered, smiling crookedly as he raised his hand in salute. Ed let out a half-hearted chuckle at the man's attempt to get his mind off of what inevitable was going to happen.

"Just do it," Ed decided with a sigh, still clutching his blanket. Roy got off the couch and took a step towards the furnace, but stopped, turning back around.

"No. Actually, you'll do it." Roy reached out and hoisted the boy off the couch. Ed lost his blanket and grabbed tightly onto Roy's shoulders for purchase.

"W-what?"

"You're gonna light the fire."

"No, I can't!"

"Of course you can." Roy placed the boy on the floor and lowered himself next to him while offering him the matches.

"No, I really _can't_." Ed frowned, gesturing to his single arm.

_Jesus Christ._

Roy's cheeks were burning with guilt as he realized the huge flaw in his plan.

"Sorry," Roy uttered shamefully, internally punching himself. _He could be such an inconsiderate dick sometimes._

Ed glanced back at him, feeling a little bad about shutting the other down when he was clearly only trying to help. Resolutely, Ed grabbed the box of matches and slid it open. A match fell out of the box, and he grabbed it with a shaky hand.

"Edward?" Roy asked, arms hovering to take the match away from the boy.

"No, I'm going to try it," Ed interrupted stubbornly.

_It was so simple; just a tiny spark. The house wasn't going to burst into flames from that. Everyone had a fireplace, and he didn't see anyone else freaking out about it. _

He let out a deep breath, turning the matchbox to its side and balanced it against his knee. Tentatively, he swiped the match against the striking surface. The match let out a sigh and a small blitz engulfed the head of the stick. But it didn't catch on fire. Edward tried again, still not getting a different result. He threw the broken matches into the fireplace and grabbed a new stick to try once more. Giving it a bit more pressure, the match finally set ablaze.

Edward let out a surprised squeak as his fingers got burned on the small flame, dropping the match to the wooden floor. Roy moved quickly to pick it up and threw it into the fire. Proudly, he shifted back around to commend the boy, but paused the moment he saw him. Edward was grasping tightly at his leg, hyperventilating with wide, unfocused golden eyes.

"Shit," Roy gnarled and went to grab Edward and get him away from the smoldering flames as quickly as possible. The small body was shaking in his arms, hand grasping weakly at Roy's shirt before it went entirely limp.

Edward had shut off.

Roy sat down in an overstuffed chair facing away from the hot fireplace. _What was he supposed to do now? _

He examined Edward's hand. His fingertips were red and had already started to blister from the flame, but it wasn't anything too bad. Then, Roy noticed the older burn on the top of his hand, and he realized that he had pushed too hard. It was apparent that this kid was not the type to give up. He had probably faced his fears every day for the past twelve years, so what gave Roy the right to push him into doing even more?

"Edward? Can you hear me?" Roy t tried, shaking the feeble frame lightly. There was no reaction. "Come on, wake up... p-pipsqueak?"

Roy frowned. Nope. That was a low blow anyway.

This was not the quiet night Roy had planned. Looking at the unconscious boy in his arms, he couldn't help but stroke his hair back in a caring notion. Edward didn't look 16. His growth was stunted, probably because of severe malnutrition from his life at the orphanage. Roy decided the best thing to do was to put him to bed. The guest bedroom was close to his own, so he would wake up easily if Ed needed him during the night. Roy could use an early night himself.

He carried Ed up the stairs and opened the door to a small bedroom with his elbow. The room was sparsely furnished with a single bed, a bedstand, two small pictures on the wall, and a gray weave blanket on the floor. There was a single dresser in the corner, where Roy had placed a thirsty-looking plant for some color. Gently, he laid the kid down on the bed, pulling off the covers and tucking him in.

Before going to bed himself, he placed a glass of water and one of his favorite novels on the bedstand and left Ed's backpack within reach of the bed. He turned the lights off and left the door slightly cracked. Then, he got himself off to bed, pondering over the day's unexpected turnout, but it didn't take long before he was fast asleep.

* * *

_His eardrums felt like they were about to explode. The high-pitched noise drowned out the noise of gunfire and screams._

_The noise of despair and death._

_The noise of his men falling._

_Someone grabbed onto his shirt._

_"Don't worry Cap'n," the man urged. "We'll get you outta here."  
_  
_Roy could not open his eyes. His chest tightened as if someone was sitting on it, holding him down. He recognized the voice talking. It was Private Palmer.  
_  
_"You're... you're dead," Roy muttered feebly, trying to reach for the young soldier, but his hands were pinned to his sides.  
_  
_"What are you talking about? You're losing too much blood Cap'n." the voice chuckled nervously, his hand meeting Roy's own hand, picking it up reassuringly._  
_  
"No, no. You... You died. I remember this day. I got shot, and you, you-" Roy's voice drowned out by an ear-shattering explosion. He felt the force of the blow in waves, leaving the air dusty with sand and rubbles.  
_  
_"Palmer?" Roy called as he came back to his senses, still clutching at his subordinate's hand, not wanting nor being able to open his stinging eyes. Something was not right._

_Carefully, he squinted at his surroundings. The thick layer of dust still burned and the noise in his ears got louder and louder. The hand in his had still not let go._

_"Private Palmer!" His voice was sterner this time **because his subordinate needed to answer him goddammit!** He peered down on the hand in his own, blinking a few times to let his view clear, but he couldn't see his Private anywhere._

_Piece by piece, a picture of what was going on fell into place. _

_**Knuckles white and bloody.** _ _Like a rockslide, he realized what was happening. _

_"P-Palmer?" he stuttered to no one. All that was left of the young man's body covered Mustang's clothes, hands, and face.  
_  
_"Palmer!" His voice suffocated in the chaos of his own mind. All that remained of his young subordinate was a death-grip, and the rest would be washed out of his uniform later._

_Roy screamed._

_Everyone was screaming. The whole world._

_His peers, subordinates, their families, his enemies; Pleading for their lives, praying that this atrocious war would end._

_He had to make it stop!_

* * *

With that thought Roy forced himself awake drenched in sweat, throwing himself into a sitting position while panting heavily.

But the screaming didn't stop. He held his ears, muffling the sound of helpless cries of despair. But, how? It had never helped before-

That's when he realized that he wasn't dreaming this. Someone was actually crying out. It took a second before he remembered the boy in his guest bedroom, but the moment he did, he jumped out of bed and dashed for the room across the hall.

"Edward?" he called urgently, slamming the door open. Curled in on himself, grasping at the sheets with the pillows thrown to the floor, Edward trashed about helplessly.

"Nononono," the boy wailed with tears rolling down his face, leaving wet splotches on the white sheets.

"Edward, it's just a dream. Please wake up," Roy cooed, hovering above the bed, unsure of what to do.

"M-mom! I'm sorry. It was an accident. Al. I'm sorry. So sorry, _please!" _The heart-shattering sobs broke into silent weeping, and Roy sank to the floor.

"I can't handle this," he told himself exasperated, letting his head rest on the mattress. "Not now."

He contemplated calling Hawkeye, or even Havoc to come and get the boy. This was too much. He had too much to deal with. He couldn't babysit a broken boy, being utterly broken himself.


	6. Chapter 6

Revisited the 25th of May 2020

Chapter 6: I will stand here and burn in my skin

**The following chapter will contain some graphic descriptions of violence.**

* * *

_The flames engulfed his body. He felt them catching onto his arm, and then onto his leg, pinning him down to the floor. The pain was excruciating and would not let go of him._

_«Mom!» he yelled, voice shattering into a million little pieces, the thick, black fog forcing his throat shut._

_Where was she?_

_«Help me! Mom, where are you?» _ _Still nothing.  
_  
_Edward turned his head to look around the room. Alphonse, he remembered. Where was Alphonse?_

_Fueled by the thought of his helpless baby brother, he forced himself to break through the chains of fire. Getting back to his feet, he saw the roaring flames, launching spitballs of fire through the room. The sight of the ominous stonebuilt fireside, previously associated with cozy and warm evenings spent with his family, made him paralyzed with fear. It had large blazing teeth, eating away at anything that came too close. It grabbed a hold of his right arm and Ed screamed from agony and panic._

_Wicked laughter roared from the blazing beast before Ed finally was finally able to break free of its searing barbs._

_He gasped as he realized it had chewed his arm off. A warm liquid started to dribble from his eyes, and he grasped at where his arm was supposed to be. _

_«Nononono,» Ed cried and looked up with tearful orbs at the monster that was eating his body._

_Devouring his family- his__ entire life._

_Ed's eyes shut open widely, when he saw what it had started to gorge on next. Inside of the flaming gap of fangs, he saw his mother, embracing his infant brother tightly to her chest. Her face looked twisted in the bright light, as the flames tore at her clothes, pulling her down to her knees._

_She screamed._

_«M-mom! Get out of there!» Ed shouted as loud as his small lungs could muster. _ _«Let go of them!»_

_Ed ran towards them but stopped dead in his tracks when his mother's skin started to melt off of her skeleton. His brother bawled his little heart out, and the sound broke Edwards's heart and made him sick with guilt. Two illuminating arms spread out from the gap and grabbed onto Alphonse, forcing the toddler from the embrace of his mother. Her hazel eyes grey and kept widening until they were unnaturally big, her skin peeling off her face and bones appearing as blood burst from underneath the burnt flesh. Her mouth gaped, jaw unhinged as a high pitch howl escaped her body, and uncontrolled hysteric sobs made her body convulse while grasping for her baby. Melting arms tried to reach for her young son as Ed stood and watched in terror. His tears had frozen in his eyes, despite the high temperature and he couldn't move._

_"M-mom?" he finally managed to pipe, as his mom's dissolving body turned to look at him. That was when her eyeballs dropped out of her skull._

_"What have you done?" His mother's voice sounded like it had dropped an octave as it roared dangerously at him._

_"Mom-"_

_"You devil child!"_

_"Please!"_

_"You evil, good for nothing-"_

_"I'm sorry."_

_"Just like your father! You destroy everything you touch."_

_The fireplace got the hold of his leg.  
_  
_He cried._

_His mother's body withered before him, her bones poking out of her body._

_"Poisonous..."_

_"Mom... It hurts!"_

_"Little piece of **shit**."_

* * *

Ed startled awake, gasping for air with tears sprung from his eyes.

_Every night._

He wiped some sweat on the edge of his duvet, catching his breath while covering his face. _It's all my fault. I deserved everything- Every single little thing. _He hid his face in the blanket, wanting to wait until his tears stopped running, when he heard the heavy snores.

_Sounds like at least someone is getting a good night's sleep, _he thought, but felt as if they sounded too close to be coming from a different room.

_Wait_.

He peeped over his duvet.

Roy was draped, fast asleep, over his bed while still seated on a chair pulled close.

"You old _perve-" _Ed thought, but quickly realized he had probably cried out in his sleep again. His pillows were placed on the foot-end of the bed, where he knew they probably weren't when he had been put to bed.

So, Roy must have checked in on him.

Ed felt embarrassed, but could not deny feeling some warmth in his chest by the gesture. Then, it turned into guilt. He had worried Roy, and been an inconvenience. Disrupting the man's sleep. Probably his whole life too. Why was he even still here? Ed frowned, and even though his mind was not quite ready to go back to sleep, his body was very much so.

"I am sorry, Mustang," he whispered carefully and laid back down. "I mean... bastard."

* * *

Roy decided to work from home the next day. He always carried a messenger bag, bursting at the seams with paperwork, just in case he would actually feel like doing some work out of the office. Ed had been placed on the sofa in Roy's home office in the basement, with his ankle tightly bandaged and raised on a pillow. Now, he was lounging comfortably on the couch, alongside a stable of books he had picked out from Roy's personal library.

He had shut off again, but not because of trauma this time. The many books in Roy's home had swallowed and devoured the kid completely. Roy smiled as he gazed across the room. This was the first time in the last 24 hours he had seen the boy relax. He clearly needed it. Roy needed it too. This morning Ed had woken up with a bad chough and a runny nose. His leg wasn't looking any better either. Actually it looked worse, and that worried him.

The rest of the day went by mostly uneventful. Roy had worked for a couple of hours, and Ed had been reading continually. They were even being civil towards each other. Some quarreling had occurred, but that was to be expected as two so _clearly opposite_ personalities had to spend any kind of prolonged time together. They had also decided that Ed's temporarily best method of transportation around the house was on Roy's shoulders. At first it had been a challenge, with Ed's wounded pride coming in the way. But then it seemed like he started to enjoy it. Ed was curious about _everything _and seated on Roy's shoulders, he could follow along without being too much of a hinder.

After getting Ed off to bed that night, Roy could not sleep. He had felt so inadequate last night, while today had been kind of fun, and that was _just_ as unsettling for Roy.

Tomorrow he had to go back to the office, and Ed couldn't stay home by himself while sick and injured. He probably had to bring him along. Maybe he should take Ed to the infirmary to get his leg looked at while they were there.

Roy sighed. He could already hear Havoy and Breda's comments about him becoming soft. And, maybe he was, because _when did he start to care about what those clowns thought?_

Hawkeye would be pleased with him though. Roy caught himself smiling, then shook his head. _Naaaah,_ he _definitely_ didn't care what _she_ thought of him...

...okay, maybe just _a little_.

* * *

Ed sat on Roy's shoulders as they arrived at the HQ the next morning. He was not too happy with having to tag along to Roy's office, so Roy had left out the part where he was taking him to be assessed by a doctor. Ed had been very assertive that he could take care of himself. But eventually, Roy had talked him into coming voluntarily, bribing him with the HQ official library.

At least they seemed to be the first ones arriving, Ed thought, a bit self-conscious about his spot on the colonel's shoulders.

"Good morning," Hawkeye greeted automatically, not lifting her eyes from the paperwork in front of her.

_Ed had been wrong._

"Good morning, first lieutenant," Roy answered, seemingly unfazed by her early presence.

"Morning," Ed chimed in.

At first, Riza did not seem to react to the new addition to the office, but after a couple of seconds she arched her eyebrows, gazing up at the strange pair. She looked them over appraisingly, before settling into a devious smile.

"Nice to see you Edward," she murmured affectionately, turning her attention back to her workload.

"He sprained his ankle," Roy clarified, realizing that they may be looking a bit strange. No matter how young the 16-year-old might appear, a piggyback ride could seem a bit excessive. He knew Riza would not judge though, and was probably just content that Roy had ended up taking care of the kid after all.

* * *

After about an hour of work, Roy finally brought Edward to the library as he had promised. Edward almost jumped off his back with eagerness as they entered the comfortably lit room. Still with the boy sitting on his shoulders, Roy got a couple of military files out of a locked archive. While reading silently, he stood by Ed's bookcase of choice, letting him look through the shelf undisturbed. After a couple of minutes, Roy looked up from his reading.

"Have you found something jet?"

"Uh-"

"Hey!" Roy smacked his file closed, catching the boy in reading it from his position over the Colonel's head. "These are confidential!"

"Sorry," Ed smiled in embarrassment. "What does Debellatio mean?"

"I am _not _discussing military business with you, Edward," Roy snarled. Ed still looked like he wanted to say something, but decided against it when hearing Roy's threatening tone. Instead, he grabbed a book, balancing it between himself and the back of Roy's head, and then picked up another one.

"Kay, done."

Roy turned to leave the library but startled when he noticed Havoc standing by the opposite shelf, puffing at his cigarette as he usually did. What did seem different was the astonished expression on his face, replacing his regular carefree and crooked smile.

It was not hard for Roy to guess that it was because of his new slightly unconventional, sixteen-year-old neckpiece.

"Secon Leiuntenant Havoc," Roy addressed his subordinate sternly as he passed him by, while Ed gave an overly ceremonial, but probably sarcastic, salute.

"You know, Edward," Roy said, while they walked down the long hallway connecting the office area and the library. "Giving a salute with your left hand is considered extremely insulting."

Ed answered with a slap at the back of the Colonel's head. "Screw you, Colonel fatass."

"My... my ass isn't_ fat_."

* * *

Edward's last comment had made their next stop a lot easier.

Instead of going into the offices, Roy made a turn and opened a door to a stairwell. He followed the steps down two floors to the basement. Opening the next door, they immediately left the feeling of an office environment behind. Because _this_ was a hospital.

Roy felt Ed's hand pinch the top of his head, grabbing onto his hair and pulling relentlessly.

"Ouch, stop that!" he sneered, swatting at Edward's hand.

"W-why would you bring me down here?" Ed stuttered timidly. Roy let out a deep breath.

"Your ankle looks bad," he explained with forced patience. "I want a medic to take a look at it."

"N-no, it's better. It's fine. Doesn't even hurt," Ed stammered, awfully guarded and shifting his attention towards every sound in the bleak scene.

"It'll be fine Edward, they're just going to _look _at it. Maybe do an x-ray. It's nothing to worry about."

A young man in a white coat approached them. He was a bit shorter than Roy, had his blonde hair cut pin-short to cover up the premature balding and was wearing glasses with frames that were way too big for his small head.

"Colonel Mustang, it's nice to see you again," he greeted and shook Roy's hand before turning his attention to Ed.

"You must be Edward. I'm Dr. Leroy Munk."

_Fittingly enough, _Ed thought, looking at the bald spot and the thin hair still desperately clinging to the man's head with skepticism.

Dr. Munk reached his hand out to formally greet him too, sporting an overwhelmingly positive attitude. Ed's stubbornness made sure that the gesture went unanswered, and Roy was secretly enjoying Ed's reluctant behavior towards the young doctor. He was a very nice man, for sure, but he definitely addressed Ed as much younger than he actually was.

* * *

Ed refused Roy to come into the examination room with him, which was fine with Roy. He weighed the options between going back to the office and having them call him when they were done, or nod off in the waiting room for a while. The choice had been easy if it was not for his blonde-haired first lieutenant entering through the door, just a couple of minutes after he had sat down.

Roy scoffed, unwillingly getting off his chair. Something in her eyes made him slightly worried.

"Sir?" she said, walking up to him, looking around the room. "Is Edward with the doctor?" she asked.

"Yes, they just went in." _Just a little white lie_, in case she had come to scold him for avoiding his workload.

"Do you think there is somewhere we can talk in private?"

Roy peered down at her, before nodding curtly and taking the lead towards the reception to ask for a vacant office or meeting room. They were pointed towards a room down the hall and as they entered, Riza locked the door behind them.

"What's going on, First Lieutenant?" Roy asked urgently. "You're making me worried."

Riza turned and looked at him, letting out a deep sigh. "I was going to talk to you about this yesterday, but you weren't in."

Roy sat down on a chair by a wooden table and folded his hands on his stomach. "Continue."

Riza was acting strange, a bit frantic. She sat down on the chair beside Roy. "When Edward left the office two days ago, I decided to do some snooping around."

And that explained why she was acting so franticly. Investigating without an order. Roy bowed his head deeply, now understanding her strange behavior.

"I wanted to see if maybe there were someone back in Risembool that could take the boy in. Some neighbors, friends of the family, etc, you know." She couldn't keep her hands still, tapping her fingers on the manila folder she'd been hugging since she had come down to the infirmary.

"_Riza."_ Roy made a motion with his hand that told her to stop. "Calm down, please."

She closed her eyes for a few moments, before continuing with newfound ease. "I looked into a couple of their closest neighbors and found a family that seemed to have close ties with Hoenheim. They are called the Rockbells."

Roy wasn't sure how he felt about this.

"They already adopted a boy from an orphanage close by some years ago." She finally let go of the death grip on the folder, sliding it over to Roy. Roy opened it carefully and was met with a picture of a toddler, clipped to what he recognized as adoption forms. Lifting the picture to read the content, he suddenly froze and looked up at Riza in disbelief. She nodded slightly.

_"I don't think Alphonse Elric is dead."_


	7. Chapter 7

Revisited the 25th of May 2020

Chapter 7: I poured myself another cup of sober nights

Roy fell silent for a long time. Tention strained his sight as he read through the adoption papers and report files on the incident that supposedly had killed Alphonse's entire family, including his brother Edward. Riza waited, carefully observing her superior.

When Edward Elric had rushed out of their office a couple of days ago, she had become worried about him. He had looked like a limp, cornered animal, finally escaping from capture. No wonder, as he had been wheeled in, strapped to a wheelchair.

After some consideration, she had decided to go after him. How he could have disappeared so fast was beyond her, because when she reached outside, he was nowhere in sight. After that, she had not been able to focus on her work. That was when she decided to look further into the case. There had to be someone left with ties to his family.

* * *

It took nearly an hour before the doctor returned from the examination room, without Edward. In his hand, he held a large envelope. Roy frowned, feeling uneasy by the lack of tiny runts, and stood up to meet the medical.

"Colonel, I'm sorry for the wait," the young doctor said, and slipped a couple of pictures from the envelope and handed them to Roy, who recognized them as x-rays. He looked at them for good measure, not being able to establish more than that they were images of Ed's ankle.

"As you can see here-" the doctor pointed to the bottom part of the ankle joint, "he has a fractured talus bone."

Roy rolled his eyes back, wondering how this day could get any worse. "How bad is it?"

"It is an unstable fracture, but it doesn't look too severe. I don't think surgery is necessary, but we have to keep an eye on it."

Roy nodded.

"He's getting a cast now, and we will provide him with a wheelchair while he is recovering."

Roy realized that the shorter man was wearing a concerned expression, and was about to ask about it when the doctor continued to speak. "I don't know where you found this boy, but he seems very malnourished. He is pale, way too thin, and to be honest, just from his physical appearance, I thought he was much younger."

"I know."

Munk sighed and continued his report. "We will also have to treat his hand and leg for frostbite, and give him a tetanus vaccine."

This day _is_ getting worse, Roy thought. _How could he not have noticed that the kid had gotten frostbite, and why did he not take him for a checkup sooner?_ A loud screech sang through the infirmary, and Roy answered his own question. Roy followed the doctors' quick trot further down the hall. From the distraught sound of the voice, there was no doubt who it belonged to. As the two men reached the door the sound was coming from, they could hear glass shatter. Dr. Munk swallowed a lump in his throat and opened the door. "No! You get away for me, and take your hell-spike with you!" Then, the doctor quickly shut it again, just in time to avoid a tray flung through the air and hitting the door.

He looked at Roy's harsh expression. It was the exact opposite of his own nervous look. In one swift motion, Roy shoved the doctor aside and opened the door.

"EDWARD!" he yelled, eyes fixed on the boy who was currently using a metal tray as a shield, while verbally terrorizing the helpless nurse with a hypodermic needle in her hand.

Ed shrank by the sound of the Colonel's harsh tone and looked towards him with an accusing and pleading look in his golden eyes.

"She was gonna stab me!" he yowled and pointed to the nurse's hand, still hiding behind his makeshift buckler.

"Don't be overdramatic. It's just a small prick."

Ed pressed his lips together and scowled at the nurse. Roy rolled his eyes, and firmly walked over to the boy and grabbed the tray.

"H-hey," Ed let out a silent whine as his hand desperately reached for his protector. Roy made sure to place it way out of Ed's reach.

The older man got seated on the examination table next to Ed, and grabbed the boy's shoulders, shifting him to look at him. "Do you trust me?" Roy asked simply.

Ed's wide eyes looked at the sudden change of mood with confusion. "Huh?"

Roy repeated his question. "Do you trust me?"

"Hell no!" Ed bellowed.

"Whatever," Roy groaned, "Anyway, I'm sorry."

Ed gasped as the needle quickly poked his thigh. Roy's hold on the boy did not budge as Ed's arm curled around the steady grip for support. The nurse worked steadily, and slipped the needle out before covering the small orb of blood with a cotton ball, and covered it with a band-aid.

Ed was speechless, as he gawked on Roy with a newly found distrust, pouting and feeling horribly violated. Roy gave Ed a sad smile and patted him on the shoulder.

"I really am sorry." Roy softly grabbed onto Ed's heavily bandaged hand and looked at it. "It's to prevent your wounds from getting infected," he explained and looked Ed in the eyes. Edward still felt betrayed but gave in to Roy's apology.

"I really don't like needles," Ed explained as if it was a well-kept secret.

A small gulp came from the nurse as she quickly stepped in front of a counter, hiding the tray of capsules and instruments for the upcoming blood tests.

* * *

Ed was fuming after the visit to the infirmary. Not only did he feel like a pin cushion, but now he had to use a wheelchair and his hand was completely useless because of the bandages that covered it.

_No, his hand wasn't useless. He was. _All of the people from the orphanage who told him that he had no future and should be committed to a long term care facility had been right. The entire time from when he left Drachma until now, he had been completely dependent on other people. He had never been so dependent his whole life. If Ivan had not met him on the way to the train station, he'd be dead, buried in the snow.

_And Roy..._

Ed gazed at his broken leg and wounded hand, anger burning in his eyes. Roy didn't sign up for this; Being some kind of glorified babysitter to a worthless, good for nothing gimp. Just like everybody else, Roy felt sorry for him and had been unfortunate enough to be the one standing closest to the trainwreck that was Edward Elric.

* * *

In the next few hours at the office, Ed did not utter a single word. He didn't even touch the books Roy had brought him from the library.

Frequently, Ron looked up from his paperwork to check on the boy. He had really messed up at the infirmary, hadn't he? Betraying the boy like that, and now Ed seemed so depressed and hurt. Roy wanted to say something, but could not think of anything that would make it better. _And now he also had to keep this potentially major secret from him_. He needed to ask Hawkeye if she had any new information about the surprising discovery from earlier.

Straightening his jacket, Roy got up from his desk and casually walked across the room. Ed finally lifted his gaze from his lap tp looked at Roy. "I just need a quick word with First Lieutenant Hawkeye. If you need anything, Second Lieutenant Havoc is right outside."

Ed replied with a small nod and mustered a shy smile. It took Roy off guard, but he returned the gesture with a warm grin of his own that plastered to his face as he opened the door and stepped out of the office.

His subordinates took in the extraordinary sight with adamant skepticism, a row of raised eyebrows and wide orbs meeting the raven at his entrance.

"Shell shock?" Furey asked Falman quietly.

"Definitely some kind of war neurosis," the older answered thoughtfully.

"I'm getting flashbacks from Ishvala," Havoc shuddered bleakly.

Roy quickly wiped the smile off his face, replacing it with an annoyed grimace and stomped through the room and waved Hawkeye follow. The blonde obliged without hesitation.

* * *

Locking the door to one of their large conference rooms, Roy turned to face Riza. Her expression was stern, and she looked deep into his eyes. Roy paused for a moment, letting the sight of his most trusted subordinate and friend sink in. Her auburn eyes shone beautifully in the sunlight illuminating through the tall windows. Her hair was getting quite long these days, he realized. She always used to wear it short. His gaze followed the length down beneath her shoulders, feeling a strange urge to brush it over her shoulder.

She tilted her head. "Are you okay, Sir?"

And with that, Roy snapped back to reality. "Yes," he rushed, then hesitated. "Well, no- I'm not sure."

Riza gave him a curt nod and sat down on one of the chairs. "Okay. Talk to me."

Roy smirked as he realized that their roles had reversed from earlier in the day. "I think I screwed up with Edward," he heard himself say, pulling a chair up to sit beside her. This wasn't actually what he had come to talk to Riza about. "In the infirmary," he explained, "I think I really hurt him."

Riza looked at Roy's hands, fidgeting with the bottom of his uniform jacket. She reached out and stopped them with only a touch, and rested her hand on his. Roy didn't look at her. Instead, he turned his hand around, catching hers between his rough ones, feeling her thumb gently caress his palm. They sat like that for a minute, before Riza broke the comfortable silence. "You are doing a really good job, Roy."

Roy shook his head lightly, still not moving his gaze from the long-awaited caress.

"Yes, you are. He is lucky to have met you. And now we are going to find his family."

Roy smiled wearily and looked up to be met by her reassuring smile.

"I'm going to make a phone call to the Rockbell's. Let's just get it out of the way, and hopefully get the answers we're looking for directly from the source. All this _'how and why'_ can wait."

* * *

Hawkeye stood by the rows of phone booths at the HQ. She eyed the piece of paper she'd written the number on precariously, feeling strangely nervous in anticipation of the phone call. She had found the number of a Pianko Rockbell, which was also connected to, _moronically_, a small business called Rockbell Prosthetic Outfitters. Riza had wondered if it was some kind of cruel joke that someone had planted in the folder, but, as she found an advertisement for Rockbell Prosthetics between the pages, she realized that the only cruel joke here was faith.

She dialed the digits scribbled on the note, resting her forehead in her palm as she waited for them to pick up.

"Rockbell Prosthetic Outfitters," a lively voice that Riza assumed belonged to a young girl answered. "How can I be at your service?"

"Oh! Ah, h-hello. My name is Riza Hawkeye." She decided against mentioning her title right away. "I'm trying to reach Pinako Rockbell."

"Just a minute!" Riza heard the voice call out for_ 'Granny'._ Not long after, the phone was picked back up.

"This is Pinako." This voice sounded more like that of an elderly woman. According to the file, she'd been nearly sixty years old when she adopted the supposed younger Elric brother.

"Hello, I'm Second Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye." She hoped that it might add some credibility.

"Is that so," the old woman murmured mundanely.

"I'm calling to ask you- I'm sorry, this might seem a little out of the blue, but, did you adopt a young child called Alphonse Elric, about 12 years ago?"

The line went silent for a few moments. "Why do you ask?"

"So, you did?"

"Yes, but I don't see what-"

"Did you know that Alphonse Elric had an older brother?" Riza interrupted, not wanting to let the elderly woman get a chance to think too much about her answers.

"Oh, yes," Pinako confirmed wistfully. "Yes, that poor child died in the hospital after that awful fire. Alphonse was lucky he came out of it with only the bad memories. It was truly a miracle. If you believe in that sort of stuff," she added.

_Riza held her breath. So it was really him. _She had to approach this carefully. "Do you know for certain that his brother really succumbed to his injuries?"

"That's an inappropriate question," the older woman spoke sternly. "The social worker reported it as Al was sent off to our local orphanage. We saw the death certificate, and we held a funeral for the poor child. I don't care about your military rank, this is something I won't talk about with a stranger. I am going to hang up now."

"He's not dead!" Riza wailed urgently into the handset.

"Excuse me?" Pinako exclaimed.

"I mean... I think you were lied to. I don't know why, but..." Riza sighed. "I'm sorry for springing this off on you. We've met Alphonse's older brother, Edward. He thinks Alphonse is dead, and it's stated in both of their personal files that the other is diseased."

"W-what?"

"I know this comes as a shock. You're free to do with the information as you want, but I thought Alphonse had the right to know. Edward too."

"I do appreciate this information, Second Lieutenant. I have to process this for a bit," she said slowly. "Can I get a number where I can reach you?"

Riza left both of her office and home number and hung up. Now, all they could do was wait.

She transcribed her phone call with Pinako Rockbell and disguised it as a report, before handing it over to Roy in his office. Edward was laying with his back rested on the armrest of the red couch, with his newly casted leg raised on a pillow. His bandaged hand struggled to turn the page in an old-looking book. She smiled at the boy and leaned over to help him.

"Thanks," he said weakly and smiled carefully at her.

"No problem, Edward. How are you feeling?"

"Fine," he answered straight away. Riza looked back, unconvinced, and he realized his mistake.

"Just a little tired," he added, hoping she would leave it alone.

Roy was done reading the form Riza had put on his desk, and their eyes met. He nodded, as to confirm that he had read it, and stood up.

"If you're tired Edward, we can go home a little early. I can finish some of this at home."

"Don't worry about me. If you need to stay, I'll wait," Ed assured as the idea of him being a burden on Roy still haunted his mind.

"We're going home for the day." Roy decided and placed the stack of files, including the one he just received from Hawkeye, into his bag.

* * *

Ed kept his silence throughout the evening, only speaking when spoken to and averting his attention anywhere by Roy. Roy wondered if he had gotten a fever in addition to the cold, but the boy kept assuring that he was fine.

After helping Edward to bed, Roy went back downstairs and poured himself a glass of an old Evan Williams bourbon. Tiredly, he sat down in his favorite chair and closed his eyes. Riza Hawkeye had not called yet, which meant that the Rockbells had not called. Roy had mixed feelings about it. First, of all, he hoped above all else, that Edward would get his brother back, while something in the depths of his mind was feeling worried that they would take him away.

_What was wrong with him today?_ He had only known the kid for a couple of days. He also realized that he had not even once thought of Edward as a brat for the past 24 hours, even after his display at the infirmary.

Roy scoffed and looked at the golden liquid in his glass. If this was his thought pattern tonight, he needed at least 2 or 12 more of these.

* * *

The next morning, Roy woke up at five o'clock as usual. He had not slept well, and a hint of a hangover lingered behind his eyes. He got up and moved to the bathroom connected to his bedroom. His reflection showed a man that looked older than his thirty years, black rings underlining his grey eyes, and the usually smoothly shaved jaw studded. He sprinkled some cold water in his face, still not feeling much fresher. Had he taken a sick day off from work this year? Maybe today was the day, but he shrugged it off, undressing from his boxers and got into the shower.

About 20 minutes later he was standing in the kitchen, freshly shaved and clean. He felt more and more like a human being as his morning routine proceeded. He tapped impatiently on the countertop, waiting for his coffee to get ready. That would be the last piece that would put him back together again. A cup of coffee to get ready for the day with. A day filled with paperwork and trying to mend the relationship with the boy that he had broken yesterday. As the thought struck him, he immediately felt like he was going to fall apart again.

Newly equipped with a cup of fresh coffee, he walked upstairs to wake up his sleeping guest. He knocked on the door that he was sure he had left open the night before. Hopefully, Ed had not struggled with nightmares last night. Roy waited a while, still not getting an answer, so he knocked a little harder. "Wake up pipsqueak, you need to get washed up before we leave."

Roy opened the door.

_No. No no no no!_

Ed was not there.


	8. Chapter 8

Edward did not fall asleep that night. His mind was racing. Roy had seemed so tired that whole day, and it was Ed's fault. He had disrupted this man's life and probably humiliated him in the infirmary because of his stupid phobia of needles. Unvoulantairily, his mind went back to years ago at the orphanage.

_He had a really bad day. The flashbacks of all of his past trauma took control over him frequently. He was bedridden, and as usual, his leg was chained to his bed. That was something they did to the kids who had a history of running away. All they actually needed to do was to confiscate his crutch, but apparently, they still felt the need to humiliate him even further. Or, maybe they were just giving him too much credit. The restricted movements triggered his flashbacks. Soon the chain around his ankle lit ablaze and made him unable to get out of their burning house._

_At some point, it must have gotten really bad, because an excessive amount of staff threw themselves over him and took the form of huge spitballs of fire in his mind. He felt a stab in his arm, and suddenly, he was trapped. Usually, when the flashbacks would occur, he would be able to snap back by himself at some point whenever it seemed to become too much. Like being jolted awake from a nightmare. But whatever that syringe had been filled with, it did not let him wake up._

_When he finally awoke from his pained sleep, he found himself strapped onto his bed. Leather belts tied his head, arm, leg, and torso tightly to the bed. A small crowd of terrified kids had gathered around him. They looked like they were watching a freak show. Ever since he had been terrified of needles._

He had felt so much calmer when Roy had come in the door at the infirmary. He knew he would not let them drug him like they had in Drachma. Also, he kinda knew that their awful medical practitioner, who seemed to like Ed way too much, was far, far away. But if someone was to force him to sleep again, he would not know that. At that point, the reality was whatever transpired inside his fractured mind.

Ed shrugged as the memories of that vile man crept into his head. He did not want to think of him. He had left him behind at the orphanage. He was far, far, farfarfarfar away.

Ed had spent a lot of time in the orphanage's medical wing. Not only because he was not fully healed when he was brought in (_not that he would ever be_), but also because he was such an easy target for the older boys. He was so weak (_is so weak_), that anyone could do whatever they wanted with him (_and usually did)_. He had been broken so long ago. Broken so many times. There was no way anyone could pick up the pieces and put them back together. Not even an important and kind military man._ Nobody deserved to be stuck with him._

When Ed finally snapped out of his train-of-thoughts, he shuddered. _Was he having flashbacks of having flashbacks now too_? He crawled out of bed, tryingly putting some weight on his broken leg. He found it easier with the support of the cast. His crutch was placed in the near left corner of the room and was well within his reach. It definitely hurt to put weight on his foot, but he could manage. He needed to leave, and let Mustang get back to the regular life that he had so selfishly disturbed. The voice of the Drachman doctor sung in his ear;

_'You ungrateful, disgusting little shit. Stop fucking crying!'_

Edward realized that he was, in fact, crying.

* * *

Roy threw on his civilian coat and ran out the front door. From the inside, he could hear the phone started ringing again. He had heard it while he was rummaging through the house just a couple of minutes ago.

"Edward?" he yelled and looked around. It had snowed a lot during the night, and his driveway who he had shoveled just the day before was again covered in several inches of snow. Completely erasing any fresh tracks that might have given an indication on how or where the boy could have gone. Roy cursed, and the phone's shrieking was not making his panic lessen. He turned back inside, grabbing the handlebar off the wall

"What?" he growled to whoever was on the other side.

"Sir? Is anything wrong?"

_Riza._

"Edward is missing." his voice turning completely flat, as he leaned against the wall, covering his face with his arm.

"Missing? How..." she interrupted herself before he could. "Lieutenant Colonel Hughes and I will be over right away."

Roy uncovered his face.

"Hughes?" he asked in confusion.

"Yes. He is in the office to see you. You had a meeting this morning."

Roy pressed his palm to his face.

"Tell him I'm sorry. I forgot. Things have been a bit crazy this morning."

"You can apologize yourself, sir, when we get there."

"Thank you."

A click as she hung up was heard, and Roy followed her lead.

Where the hell could a boy with two missing and two injured limbs possibly have gone?

* * *

Edward's balance was worse than usual because of the roundness of his cast. It was so painful that he could bearly move forward. The frigid wind was tearing at his skin and made his stumps ache furiously. He had hardly moved at all it felt like, and looking back, he could confirm it to be true. The colonel's house was still at eye's sight. He knew they were going to look for him in a couple of hours, and he could not risk them getting to him. Then this whole thing would just start all over, and they would be stuck with him once again. They did not deserve this. They were so kind, and Ed was just going to let them down.

He had only walked about half a mile when his leg gave out from the strain. He collapsed to the ground and grabbed onto his ankle, protected by two pairs of woolen socks, and rocked himself back and forth, breathing through the fit of pain. After a short rest, he had no choice but accepting that there was no getting back to his feet, literally and figuratively speaking. But he was not going to let himself be found. They might be worried about him for a couple of days, but then realize it was for the best and be glad he was gone. This was for the best.

To the best of his abilities, he grabbed the crutch and started to crawl his way through the snowbound streets.

* * *

Riza's car parked in the driveway and Roy could see Riza, Hughes, and Havoc stepping out of the car. While waiting, he had been looking around his backyard and the small shed behind the house.

"Havoc wanted to come along too," Riza explained.

"Anything to get out of work", Roy mumbled, cynically.

"Hey, I worry about the little guy too!" Jean Havoc protested, lighting his cigarette.

"It's good to see you old friend!" Maes Hughes exclaimed and forcefully hugged Roy. "I only wish it was under different circumstances."

"Yeah, me too," Roy muttered, his mouth being muffled by the unwanted embrace.

"Now, what is this I hear about you adopting an orphan?" Maes asked in his usual chipper voice, smirking at his old friend.

"I have not adopted an orphan," Roy grimaced. "We met him on the train, he had nowhere else to go."

"That's not really the whole story." Havoc said, looking to the side.

Roy gave him an angry glare.

"The colonel arrested a crippled kid, told him that his father was dead, and proceeded to let him leave on his own, resulting in the kid breaking his leg," Havoc flatpanned.

"That's not entirely..." Mustang intervened, while Hughes looked at him, gaping.

"How could you be so heartless?" Hughes countered.

"I'm not! I just didn't realize I was supposed to adopt every stray animal that came crashing into me in the street."

"You knocked him to the ground..." Havoc replied.

"Mustang!" Hughes exclaimed.

"Havoc!" Mustang crossed his arms.

"Guys!" Riza intervened. "Should we not waste any more time? How long has Edward been gone?"

Roy rubbed his face as if it would help him remember anything of importance.

"I don't know. He probably left during the night. When I went to bed at midnight, he was still in his bed."

"Well, there is no time to lose. He's not in good health, and it's cold outside."

"What does he look like?" Maes asked.

"He has long blonde hair... 16 years of age..."

"Looks like 12." Havoc cut in.

"Short," Roy opposed. "Missing an arm and a leg, and what's left is bandaged, hobbling around with a crutch... Kind of hard to miss."

Hughes scratched his head and looked to Riza for any sort of confirmation.

"Pretty much," she said flatly. Roy took the command.

"Okay. First Lt. Hawkeye and Sec. Lt. Havoc, you two should take the car and drive around the neighborhood. Lt. Colonel Hughes and I will look on foot."

"Sir." The two lieutenants saluted their superior and got to work. Roy started to walk at a fast pace down his driveway, and Hughes ran to catch up.

"Come on Roy, what's with the formalities?"

Roy did not answer. He always had a tendency to grow irritable and lash out whenever he was worried. Luckily, Maes was not the one to take those sorts of things to heart. There was probably no one in the word that could see through Roy's severe exterior as easily as that man could, not even Riza.

"I'm still looking forward to hearing the whole story," Maes said, with a teasing smile on his face.

"You will," Roy simply said. "But right now we have to concentrate on finding the boy. If he's been outside all night, this might be a matter of life and death."

* * *

Ed was feeling very tired. His body was numb from crawling in the snow and he did not feel well. He had crawled further than he had been able to walk, but he still had hardly left the suburban neighborhood. His eyelids were partially frozen shut by the frost on his eyelashes and tugged every time he blinked. When he finally had stopped to rest, his bandaged hand had frozen and stuck to the metal crutch. He accidentally ripped his bandages off while trying to free it. He looked at his wounded hand. Cotton balls had been put between his fingers, separating them, and keeping all the blisters and sores from rubbing against each other. Now it looked like the fluids from the exuding wounds had made the cotton balls germinate* into his hand. It looked gross, and Ed felt a hint of nausea.

Now he was huddled up against a tall wooden fence and watched as the sun rose over a mountain in the distance. What was behind the fence he had no idea. If he had noticed, he certainly did not remember. All he knew was that it was the closest thing he had found to keep him just a little sheltered from the wind, as well as out of sight from the main road. The snowing had finally eased, and in front of him was a large field that led into the woods. He could try to get there, but he had no idea what kind of wildlife there was in Central. In Drachma he would be a bear's supper in an instant. Maybe that would be for the best. That way, at least he would be to some use.

No, this was fine. He was so tired. If he closed his eyes for a couple of seconds, the weariness might fade, and he might be able to go a little further after all. He closed his eyes. Just 15 seconds.

1, 2, 3, 4, 5... This felt good.

6, 7...

6, 7, 8... Wait, how far had he counted?

7, 8, 9, 10... Yes, this was helping

11, 12...

13, 13, 14...

He didn't even feel cold anymore.

15.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! I know everything is moving along quite slowly right now. The story will develop a lot in the next chapter! We're coming close to the end! Thank you for putting up with me! I did originally state that I was gonna update before Monday, but I do have plans (shockingly enough, as I am completely failing at adulthood) this weekend. I do want this next chapter to be good and tie up some loose ends. Making some progression! My ADHD has a tendency to aboslutley blossom while writing, making _ . _ hard. There are soooo many undiscovered paths to look into, and I tend to feel like exploring them all. The story of my life. **

**Aaaanyways... Enough of my existential anxiety.**

**Stay awesome, and please leave a review!**


	9. Chapter 9

Late at night, Pinako sat in her rocking chair, deeply in thoughts and smoking her pipe. The following years after Al's adoption had been rough. He would wake up with horrible nightmares almost every night and absolutely refused to believe that Edward was dead. It was the same struggle every time and there was nothing they could say to console him. The only one he wanted was his big brother. The only thing they could do was to remind him that Edward was not coming back, but would watch Alphonse from the sky with their mother. It broke the little boy's heart, time after time.

It had always seemed strange to her, how the boy was able to accept that his mother was dead, but not Edward. But, to think, after all this time, that Edward might not be... What if the young Alphonse had known something? Something his brain wasn't ready to understand at that time. They had just added to his confusion, not asking any questions and blindly accepting that Ed was dead and that Al was in denial.

She made her way to the phone that hung on the wall at their entrance. It was past eleven, so she hoped the Second Lieutenant was still up. Reaching into the pocket of her apron, she picked up the note with phone numbers lieutenant Hawkeye had left and called the home number.

"Riza speaking," the other end answered after just a few rings.  
"Uh, this is Pinako Rockbell. I'm looking for Second Lieutenant Hawkeye?"  
"Oh, yes, sorry. This is her."  
There was silence. Pinako got thrown off from the conversation she had rehearsed in her mind before calling.  
"Is there something I can assist you with?"  
"Are you sure that it's our Edward?" she finally managed in a worn out voice. She heard a deep sigh from the woman at the other end.  
"I don't know what to say," she admitted. "I don't know. I'm sure that Edward Elric is here in Central. It's Alphonse we've been unsure of."  
"Well, I know who my Alphonse is, and he is Alphonse Elric, son of Van Hohenheim and brother of Edward Elric. I just don't understand why anyone would lie to the two boys."  
"Me neither Mrs. Rockbell. We are looking into it, and will give you the answers if we ever find them." Another silence took over the conversation and once again Riza was the one to break it.  
"Have you thought any more of what you want to do with this information?"  
Pinako still didn't answer. Images of Alphonse at five years of age came to mind.

_He had been in the fields picking wildflowers and stood in their kitchen with his lovely bouquet of pink, yellow and blue. She was about to find a small vase to put them in when he looked at her with his big hazel eyes and asked if they could put them on his brother's grave. Her heart sunk in her chest. It was the first time Alphonse had wanted to visit his grave. Whenever they went to the cemetery, he only spoke of his mother. He refused to accept that his brother was there too. After that he had never woken up, crying for his brother. Not a single time._

"Yes," she finally spoke. "I know what to do."

* * *

Winry Rockbell was humming as she cut up thick pieces of bread. The eggs were cooking in the frying pan, and the table had been set. She loved mornings, moving effectively between her different stations in the kitchen, cooking her small family a nice breakfast. The radio was playing tunes and the sun was on its way to unveil what she expected to be a beautiful snowy day. Stretching his arms over his head, Alphonse revealed the bottom part of his stomach as he entered the kitchen, yawning heavily. "Good morning sis," he mumbled in a groggy voice.  
"Morning Al! The eggs will be ready in a few minutes. Is granny up yet?"  
"Yeah, she's up," he said, leaning over her shoulder to the eggs in the pan. "This smells really good."  
"The hot water is ready if you want some tea," she said and pointed to the kettle with her spatula before flipping the eggs. Pinako entered as the plates with eggs and toast were placed on the table, ready to be devoured.

"This is a nice surprise," she smiled and picked up a cup to fill it with the hot water.

"I woke really early, so I decided to make breakfast for you guys," Winry answered, sitting down at the table. She abstained from mentioning the part where she couldn't sleep because her grandmother had been acting strange last night.

Pinako returned to the table with a cup of freshly brewed tea. From the look on the old woman's face, Winry couldn't help but feel like something really was bothering her. Fortunately, Pinako didn't wait for her to say something about it.  
"Alphonse, sit down, please. I need to talk to you about something."

Obediently, he sat down on a chair next to Winry, curious and a bit apprehensive.

"Is something wrong?" he asked with worried wrinkles on his face.

Pinako took a deep breath, folding her hands as she looked at her adoptive son. He had grown up so much the last year. His body was tall and strong and he had become much more confident. But, he would never stop being the sweet, kind and gentle boy he had always been. Not being able to prolong it anymore, she finally spoke.  
"I got a call yesterday," she paused, looking for the right words. "It was a woman from the military in Central."

She eyed her granddaughter who was facing down. Winry hated the military after everything that happened to her parents during the Ishvalan war. Pinako herself was not overly fund. Winry's father had been her only son after all. But, this was not about that.

She continued. "Anyway, she asked me a couple of questions about... the fire."  
Al suddenly looked to her in surprise, unconsciously stroking his arm where the faint scar of a second-degree burn was etched in his skin.  
"Why?" he uttered with a frown.

"She had some questions about you... and Edward."

Al finched when hearing that name. It hadn't been spoken out loud for a long time, but he frequently visited the gravesite. The only thing he could think of doing was repeating himself. "Why?"

"Oh, Al." Pinako could not stand to look at the boy's pained expression, knowing how much he missed his brother. "I don't know how to tell you this without getting your hopes up..."

"He is alive, isn't he?" Al exclaimed, slamming his palms into the table, making the silverware rattle.

"What?" Winry gasped and looked at her grandmother.

Pinako shook her head. "I don't know. Apparently, a young man in Central is claiming to be Edward," she answered. "It's difficult to know for sure, but the military officials think he's telling the truth."

"I know he is! I knew he wasn't dead. I knew it!" Al shut up off his chair. "How could you tell me he was dead for all these years? How could we bury my brother? Now you're telling me that you didn't even know for sure?"

Al realized he was shouting. He had never even raised his voice at Granny Pinako before, but he was so angry. Angry that someone dared to say that all his time grieving the loss of his family could have been spent looking for the brother he was told he had lost.

"Alphonse, please sit down," Pinako said in a calm voice. "I know you are upset. We all are. Apparently, he thinks you are dead too. The military official I've been talking to tells me they are looking into it."

Even though he was still mad, he couldn't push her away. He knew she would never lie to him on purpose. Instead, he took a deep breath to calm himself down and sat down like he was told.

"W-what happens next?" Al finally mustered with forced composure.

"I guess it's up to you. They haven't told him that you are alive yet, so if you want to stay dead, you can."

"Granny, that's horrible!" Winry looked shocked. Pinako raised her shoulders, not leaving Al out of her sight. Al stared right back with fire in his eyes.

"I want to go to Central."

* * *

Alphonse packed his suitcase. Their train was leaving in three hours, but he couldn't wait. Granny had called the woman that had contacted her from Central but was told she was out on a mission. Pinako had left a message, saying that the Rockbells would arrive in Central the next morning. Then they booked three tickets for the afternoon train.

How could all of this have happened? Was there a mix-up at the hospital and whose ashes had been buried next to their mom? Not to mention, how had he always known that Ed was alive? He must have seen or overheard something at the hospital. The only thing he could remember about the time between the fire and moving in with the Rockbell's, was the feeling of guilt. It wasn't much of a memory, but he remembered just feeling so overwhelmingly guilty. At some point he had started to accept that he was wrong about Ed having survived.

He knew that people didn't think it was possible for him to remember his older brother at all, being so young when he had lost him. But, Al knew that to be untrue. He remembered every single detail about his big brother. From his messy blonde hair and golden eyes to his temper and protectiveness. He remembered Ed letting him sleep in his bed if he had a bad dream, and that he told him stories before bed whenever their mother was weary. His smell, his colorful language, and his touch. Alphonse Elric remembered every single thing about his deceased older brother. Especially well did he remember the pained look on his brother's face when the flames surrounded him. Now someone was saying that the one detail people actually believed to be true, was the lie.

In a bookshelf in his room, there was a wooden box he had made at school several years ago. He carefully retrieved it and placed it on his desk. Opening it up, he felt something heavy in his chest, like he always did when watching the container's content. Inside lay two silver pocket watches. One more damaged than the other. It was the only thing they could retrieve from the ashes of their old home. Reaching inside, he picked up the nicer of the two watches and opened it up.

'Alphonse Elric Hoenheim, 08.07.00'

He gave it a faint smile and put it back down and grabbed the watch that had sustained the most damage. It was burnt and a bit hard to get open from all the dents, but he knew how to, after years of practice. Tears threatened to take over his smile, but he wiped them away so he could see the inscription clearly.

'Edward Elric Hoenheim, 10.11.99'

The fight of the emotions was won by the tears, but he refused to lose his smile as he held the pocket watch tightly and close to his heart.

_'I always knew that we'd be together again.'_

* * *

"Edward?" Several yells sang through the streets of the suburban neighborhood. The two dark-haired men throttled around in the snow, knocking on doors, looking through gardens and tool sheds. They had met up with First Lieutenant Hawkeye and Second Lieutenant Havoc two times the last three hours, but still, there was no news. For the third time, Mustang saw Riza's car driving down the block to give the hourly check-up, noticing that the car was driving faster than the previous times. It stopped abruptly in front of them, as they walked out of a driveway.  
"Any ne..."  
"Get in the car! I'll explain on the way," Riza interrupted. The men wasted no time, Hughes getting in the back and Roy in the front.  
"What's going on?" Maes asked as he was finally able to sit up from the force pulling him down when Riza stepped on the gas pedal.  
"A horse farmer living at the edge of the woods just found a young boy behind one of his fencings. An ambulance is on its way. After dropping Havoc off, I turned around to pick up the two of you."  
"Do you know anything about the state he was in?" Roy asked, holding onto the glove department to brace himself from her speeding.  
"Unconscious. That's all they told me over the radio."

It only took them a couple of minutes before they parked outside the large farmhouse. It didn't seem like the ambulance had arrived yet.  
"Over there," Hawkeye said and pointed to a tall fence about 100 meters behind the main house. They all ran over the country yard. Roy saw a tall man with broad shoulders and a beard and guessed it must be the farmer. Crouched down beside him he saw Havoc. He had taken off his jacket and seemed to hold something in his arms.  
"Edward!" Roy shouted and picked up the pace. Havoc looked up and gave them a wave. Now Roy could see that Havoc had wrapped Edward up in his jacket, and was holding him close to his chest to keep him warm.

Roy kneeled beside Havoc and Ed, panting heavily.  
"How is he?" he finally gathered enough composure to ask.  
"He's very cold, boss." Roy lifted the collar of the jacket away to see Ed's face. He looked sickly pale.  
"His heart rate is down, and his breathing is weak. I think it's safe to say that he has a moderate or severe case of hypothermia." Havoc explained.  
"Shit," Roy whispered under his breath. "How long since you called the ambulance?"  
"They're probably close. It's almost ten minutes ago." Hawkeye explained. Roy hadn't even realized that they had caught up. Maes was talking to the farmer, taking notes in a pad he always left in his pocket.

"Can you take over? My ass is freezing," Havoc asked, and gently laid Ed in Roy's arms before he could refuse.

* * *

_Everything was in slow motion. It felt like he was underwater. All the sounds were echoing, and any attempt of moving felt restrained, but Ed kept swimming. Far above him, he could see the shimmering light from the surface. He tried to reach his arm out for the sun rays to grab a hold on him and drag him towards the surface. No matter how hard he struggled to move up, the distance seemed to grow further._

_'So tired...'_

_There was no point, was there? His battle to keep going never seemed to lead him anywhere. The sun was always just a little too far away._

_'I should just close my eyes and let the current take me. I can't do this anymore.'_

_But then, one of the ray's took a hold of his arm. Careful and steady, it led him through the blackness of the water and pulled him safely to the shore._

_Mustang?_

"I'm right here buddy."

Slowly, Ed opened his eyes. Mustang was holding his mangled hand. Ed wanted so bad to tell him to not let go. The soothing feel of being held and protected... Ed could not remember the last time someone had held him like that.  
"Stay awake, okay?"

_'You know you don't deserve this.'  
Shut up._

_'You can't live up to their expectations.'  
Shut up!_

_'You're going to hurt them like you've hurt everyone who has ever loved you.'  
Please, stop._

_'Even your father didn't want you, and he was still alive."_

_"_SHUT UP!_"_

"Edward!" Roy held him tighter as Ed started to weakly fight away Roy's arms.  
_  
_"Just... Shut up! Please... I can't take it." Ed could hardly hear his own voice. It was so weak. Why did he feel so hot?

Ed started thugging at the tied up sleeve of his sweater with his left hand, trying to undress. He felt like he was burning up and he could hardly breathe. His sweater was quickly pulled back down over his head. Voices speaking incoherently. Ed wasn't able to resist as he got lifted off the ground. With the little strength he had left in his body, he squirmed in the tight grip.

"Let me go..." he wimpered. "I don't wanna..."  
"Stop... fighting." A voice struggled.  
"M'sorry," Ed whispered. "Please, don't... hurt me. M'sorry. I'll be good, m'sorry..."  
"He's not making any sense," Roy exclaimed with a horrified look on his face.  
"It's the hypothermia." Havoc said. "The guys from the medics are just across the yard now."  
"No, no medicine... So so sorry."  
"They need to hurry up!" Roy growled.  
"It's going to be okay," Roy whispered to Ed. "You're safe. No one is going to harm you."  
"S-sorry." Ed's voice was so hores that Roy hardly could make any sense of his words.

Hawkeye approached them and placed a reassuring hand on the side of Ed's cold face.  
"Alphonse is coming to see you," she said with a smile. Roy stared at her, surprised by the sudden revelation.  
"Wha..?" the bundle squeaked. Hazy eyes looked up to her.  
"Yes. He is alive and well and on his way to see you."  
"A-Al?"  
"Al," she confirmed with a small nod. "He is very excited to see you again."

_All of a sudden, the world started turning again. The water cleared and his body was rushed through the water with fast strokes. Could this be real? Could this happen to someone like him? Was it really...?_

"Al," he whispered and his body went limp.

* * *

**Thank you for reading! This was a long one... I really hope you are satisfied with how thing's are going. I've rewritten this chapter several times.**

**Please leave a review! Stay awesome!**


	10. Chapter 10

**For some reason, the pharagraphs from my word-documents doesn't translate properly when inserted, so some of the pharagraphing might seem a bit off... I'll get around to fix that and a couple of errors in the next couple of days!**

* * *

All they could do was wait. Roy sat with his elbows on his knees, grasping at the hair on his head. Hawkeye sat next to him and Hughes next to her. Havoc had stepped outside for a cigarette break. They sat in silence and had been, ever since Edward was rushed in for treatment.

Roy rode in the ambulance to the hospital. Ed was unconscious the whole way. The medical personnel had checked his vitals, removed the kid's wet clothing and covered him in a forced air blanket and made sure he could breathe properly.

Roy had zoned out. He couldn't watch the small, helpless and lifeless body that was strapped to the gurney, afraid that Ed wouldn't pull through. What if he had already given up on life? A person could only take that much hardship without gaining anything. It just wasn't right, and once again he was, or wasn't, fighting for his unforgiving life.

"He's a tough kid," Havoc mumbled as he returned to the waiting room and sat down with a great sigh on Roy's left side. Roy shook his head in reply.  
"Yeah, definitely. It's just... I don't understand how he could disappear in the middle of the night like that. His state was already so reduced. For God's sake, he can't even walk!"  
Hawkeye left out a sad chuckle. The three men turned to look at her.

At the realization of her being the center of attention, she clarified, "Edward has been on his own since he was four years old. It doesn't matter to him if he's sick and injured. Surviving is something he is used to doing on his own."

"Surviving?" Roy spat angrily. "Surviving would have been to stay put in bed!"  
"I thought you said he grew up in an orphanage," Maes asked, ignoring Roy's outburst.  
"The Drachman orphanage he grew up in is mostly inhabited by delinquents and should be called a correction facility, not an orphanage. It's infamous for being a brutal place."

Riza took a small break to gather her thoughts and continued, "He's like a wounded animal. His instincts are to run away. I don't think Edward knows how to lean on other people. He has grown up in an environment where help isn't free. He, being unable to contribute or give anything in return, he simply doesn't believe he deserves it. Think of it as kind of an... equivalent exchange."

"So, instead he decided to remove himself from the situation," Hughes pieced together. "That makes sense," Roy sighed. "He's been so freaking compliant ever since he got that cast on his leg. He lost all of his spunk. I just figured it was because he wasn't feeling well."

Riza placed a comforting hand on Roy's shoulder. She knew better than anyone how much Roy was blaming himself for not understanding this sooner. In fact, she knew the reasons by Roy's every single move better than anyone.

* * *

The silence that had haunted the waiting room before, resumed for several minutes. Surprisingly, it was the raven-haired colonel, who seemingly tried to pull the hair out of his skull, that broke it.

"So, Mrs. Rockbell returned your call?" he asked, looking at Riza.  
"Not exactly. She called the office this morning and left a message saying that they're coming to Central, expecting to arrive early tomorrow. If she calls back before I'm back at the office, they'll ask her to call for me here," she explained. Roy gave a slight nod, eyeing Hawkeye's delicate hands absentmindedly.

"Cigarette break," Havoc declared and got up from the plastic chair he was seated on, pointing at Hughes and signaling him to come with.  
"You just had a cigarette break ten minutes ago!" Maes objected, scowling at the younger lieutenant.  
"Read the room," Havoc sneered and rolled his eyes, dragging the dumbfounded lieutenant colonel with him out of the room.

Riza looked at the two bewildered but soon shifted her attention to Roy. She studied her superior officer's weary face and realized he wasn't doing too good.

"What's on your mind, Roy?" she asked softly. Roy chuckled in response.  
"Please stay here," he mumbled eventually, still looking at her hands. Riza looked at him in confusion.

"I... need you here right now," he added, feeling a bit embarrassed at his own vulnerability. Riza gave a faint smile but didn't say anything. She leaned forward, grabbing Roy's hand in silent agreement.

* * *

About twenty minutes later, the receptionist from the front desk entered the room and approached them.  
"Are any of you Second Lieutenant Hawkeye?" she asked. Riza stood up.  
"Yes," she replied with a severe look on her face.  
"There's a phone call for you." The receptionist smiled, guiding the second lieutenant towards her desk, while the men left waiting looked at them leaving.

"That receptionist is hot," Havoc grinned. Roy rolled his eyes and contemplated to remind him of his own words about_ 'reading the room'._ Maes studied the receptionist as she walked away, nodding at Havoc.

"Yes. She has broad hips. That's excellent for reproduction."  
The answer made Havoc choke on his coffee, spitting out the hot liquid in a coughing fit that made Roy smile for the first time that day.

* * *

After a short while, Hawkeye returned. The three men watched her expectantly.  
"It was Dr. Rockbell, she confirmed that they're leaving Risembool this afternoon."  
"Did you explain the situation?"  
"Yes, in short terms. She seemed genuinely concerned. Alphonse is in a bit of shock, but very excited to see his brother."  
"That's good."

They got interrupted by a woman with mousy gray hair, blue-rimmed glasses, and a long white coat.  
"Roy Mustang?" she asked, reading from a clipboard.  
"Yes," Roy answered and stood up to approach her.  
"I'm Dr. Lucy, Elric's doctor. I understand that you are temporarily responsible for him?"  
Roy hesitated for a second, but nodded in confirmation, "Yeah, I guess I am."

She was acting professional, not revealing too much emotion as she again started to read off the clipboard.  
"Edward is currently in surgery for his leg injury," she explained. "His previous injury has been complicated by the stress he has put on his foot. We need to reposition the bone fragments into their normal alignment, and stabilize the broken pieces with metal plates and screws." She got a deep furrow between her eyes, reading what was written next.  
"What?" Roy looked worriedly at the doctor, as her frown deepened.  
"The frostbite has left his left leg-stump with some severe permanent nerve damage," she said as the air between them intensified. "We need to amputate a part of it, to stop the gangrene from spreading."

Roy almost laughed out loud. _This had to be a joke_. There was no way that the boy, who already was a double amputee, had to go through that a second time.  
"Is there no way around it?" Roy asked, knowing fully from his days in Ishval that there was not. He just had a hard time accepting it.  
"I'm afraid not." Letting that linger in the air for a moment, she continued.

"He's also being treated for hypothermia and frostbite to his hand and right leg, as well as his left stump. Lucky it's not as severe," she reassured."Unfortunately he has also developed pneumonia. He will be given antibiotics, and fluids intravenously. It's going to be a long way to recovery for the poor boy, but he is currently stable. He obviously needs to be here for observation and treatment for quite some time."  
_  
_She eventually looked up to the tall man in front of her.  
"Do you have any questions?"  
"When will he be out of surgery?" Riza asked as Roy was currently unable to speak.  
"It will be a couple of hours. It's too early to say. I'll let you know when he's out of surgery and gets out of recovery. Okay?"

Riza thanked the doctor warmly and Roy nodded almost unnoticeably. He made his way back to his seat, returning to his previous position with his elbows rested on his knees, hiding his face while trying to regain some composure.

* * *

Hours later the doctor returned and allowed Roy to see Edward. It was a long walk through the corridors. He looked at the grey linoleum floor and followed the lights one by one as it reflected in the clear floor while Dr. Lucy gave an update on the boy's condition. He had woken up a little while ago but had been in the recovery room for some time after the surgery.

They stopped outside a white door with the number 215 on it.  
"He's quite weak still and probably in some amount of pain, but he's okay to see you. It'll be good for him to see a familiar face."  
She tried to smile.  
Roy didn't reply but held his breath as he stepped inside the small room.

Ed's skin was almost transparent, as he laid limp on the cot. It was too big for his small frame, and the oversized hospital gown made him look even smaller. Helpless.

He had breathing tubes up his nose and an IV in the creak of his elbow. His hand was re-dressed in clean bandages, leaving his index finger out for the pulse oximeter to monitor his oxygen levels. His chest rose and sank, as a squeaking noise followed his breaths. As the door opened, so did Ed's eyes.

Roy carefully pulled out a chair and seated himself next to the bed as the boy's half-lidded eyes followed his movements.  
_  
_"How are you feeling?" he asked and tried to sound soothing.  
"They put a needle in my chest," the boy sulked in a whisper, pointing weakly to somewhere on his ribcage. Roy chuckled.  
"Yeah, they probably needed a fluid sample."  
"I don't care. It hurt."  
"It would probably hurt a hell of a lot more if they left you untreated. What were you thinking, leaving like that?"  
Ed sighed, looking at his lap. "I just... didn't want to be a burden."  
"You weren't a burden, just... an unexpected addition," Roy said with a crooked smile. "We were doing all right, weren't we?"  
"I guess," Ed muttered weakly. "I'm sorry."  
"Don't worry about it. Just make sure to get healthy. You should probably not speak that much either."

"Roy?" Ed started to say but hesitated.  
"What?"  
Ed shook his head sadly. "It's stupid."  
"I'm sure it's not."

"T's just... I thought I heard Riza say something before I drifted off... about my brother being alive. Was that a dream?"  
Roy went silent for a moment, wondering how to break the news, then gave Ed a small smile.  
"No, it wasn't a dream. Alphonse is really alive. He's on his way to see you right now."  
A raspy breath caught in Edwards' throat, and he let out a couple of guttural coughs. Roy leaned over to carefully pat his back.  
"Take it easy."

"How?" Ed stuttered between coughs. "Why would they tell me he was dead?"  
"I don't know. We need to look into it. A mistake like that won't be taken lightly, I can assure you of that," Roy grimaced, gently stroking Ed's bandaged hand.  
"What happened to him? After the... fire." Ed whispered the last word, hardly being able to stomach the taste of it.

"He was adopted by what seems to be a nice family. The Rockbells. They were your nabors."  
A sad smile appeared on Ed's face.  
"Yeah, I remember them. They're really nice. Yuriy and Sarah Rockbell used to babysit us. They died a long time ago, but Granny Pinako took good care of Winry, their daughter," Ed explained. "I'm glad they're the ones who took him in. Then I know he's been safe."

Something inside of Roy broke as the words were leaving Edwards mouth._ That could have been him. Didn't he realize that?_ Instead of being neglected in some hell hole in Drachma, he could have had a safe and good upbringing back in Risembool. Despite their terrible tragedy.

He didn't want to put the thought in Edwards' head though. He was probably already worked up at the moment as it was.  
"How are you feeling about it?" Roy asked, deciding that no matter what, Edwards' feelings deserved to be heard. He seemed too composed considering circumstances. _  
_  
"About what?" Ed croacked, looking up from his lap. His cheeks were stained red and eyes clouded from the fever.  
"About your brother being alive, and everything. A lot has happened for you the last week."  
"Yeah." He thought for a second.  
"I'm just relieved, happy. And a bit scared," he added.  
"Of what?"  
"What if he doesn't like me? What if he..." Ed looked towards his missing arm and winced as pain shot through his left stump as he tried to move it.  
"What if he feels ashamed or disappointed. Nobody wants a crippled older brother."  
That enraged Roy and he felt a furrow appear between his eyebrows.  
"Don't you ever think that!"  
Unintentionally, Roy raised his voice, clutching his fists. Ed startled, and looked up at him.

"Don't you **ever** feel ashamed of yourself. You need to wear your battle wounds with pride! It's proof of your strength and everything you've overcome!"

Roy let out an aggravated breath, running his hand down his face and calming himself slightly. He couldn't read the expression on Ed's face at his time, but he didn't care. He knew too many good men, scarred in battle. Psychologically and physically. This was Ed's own, personal war, and he needed him to understand how strong he was.

"Don't ever let _anyone_ tell you that you are damaged, Edward. You are so far from it. You hold yourself better on your_ one fucking broken leg_ than most people do on two," he left out a slight scoff. "Including me," he added softly.

The silence that followed was painful, as Ed was unable to utter a single word. He couldn't. It would make the gates open, so he bit his bottom lip hard, to concentrate the pain elsewhere. Not that he really needed. Roy took the hint, and sat back in the chair, crossing his arms, giving the boy the time and space to collect himself.

They sat like that for a long while, until Edward could no longer keep his eyes open. Dispite tha pain, he fell asleep to Roy's reassuring presence, feeling safe for the first time in the last twelve years.

* * *

The morning came, and a train arrived in Central at 07:00 AM as scheduled. A short elderly lady in a green coat, followed by two blonde teenagers exit the train with three suitcases divided between them. Two of them being carried by a blond, tall and healthy looking young man, wearing a beige woolen trench coat. The young girl walking slightly behind him was wearing a light blue jacket and a scarf in a darker shade of blue.

The young man scanned the large station-building with a curious gaze, looking for someone that stood out as a military officer. They had been told they would be picked up at their arrival.

It didn't take long before he noticed a blue-cloaked man, towering over the people passing by. He had a light blonde mustache and wore his fringe in a single curl down his forehead. It didn't hurt that he held up a sign saying "Welcome Rockbells!" either, in impeccable cursive writing.

"Excuse me, sir," Alphonse greeted politely, reaching his hand towards the strange man. "My name is Alphonse Rockbell. This is my sister, Winry, and Grandmother, Pinako. I believe you are waiting for us?"

The man dropped his sign on the ground and scooped the boy up in a bone-crunching hug. "Oh, young Alphonse!" the man cried. "I've heard so much about you and your brothers' heartwarming history. I am so touched and blessed by the honor of escorting you and your family to see your poor brother!"

Winry and Pinako stood back with shocked looks on their faces, avoiding the overbearing welcome given by this seemingly oversized toddler. Alphonse gasped for air and the large man finally released him.

"Where are my manners? I am Major Alexander Louis of the glorious Armstrong family," de declared ceremoniously. Alphonse cleared his voice and tried to loosen the collar of his shirt with his index finger. The three Rockbells looked at the man with somewhat mortified faces, as he flexed his enormous muscles, gloating at his own fabulousness.  
Pinako finally scoffed and stomped past him.

"Get your head outta your ass," she sneered, effectively bringing Armstrong back to earth. "I am so sorry, Mrs. Rockbell," he deflated on the spot.  
"Doctor," she corrected him.  
"Of course. Dr. Rockbell. I will show you to your vehicle," he said, bowing his head submissively, and gestured them to follow him.

"Major Armstrong, sir?" Alphonse asked as he got in the backseat of the awaiting car next to Winry. She had uncharacteristically remained silent after getting off the train, clearly feeling the tension of the situation. Armstrong got in the driver's seat, bearly fitting his burly body in the car.

"Yes, Mr. Rockbell?"  
"Have- have you met him? My brother?" he asked hesitantly, making eye contact with the major through the rearview mirror.

Armstrong smiled warmly and shook his head.  
"I'm afraid I have not had the pleasure yet. But I've heard a lot about him. He seems like quite the remarkable young man."  
Alphonse smiled and sat back in, feeling reassured by the kind words of his older brother.

When he had heard that his brother was still alive, he had been so relieved. It had proven that he hadn't been imagining it all. He thought back to that day at the hospital after they had been rescued from the fire.

He was very young when it happened, but it had made a lot of impact on him which he recond was the reason he remembers parts of it so clearly. Other parts were more fuzzy or erased entirely. He remembered his arm being bandaged, and he cried as he was handed off to a social worker.

She was an elderly woman with a stern look on her face. Her hair was tied back in a tight bun like she was trying to smooth out the wrinkles of her forehead. He remembered that she smelled heavily of perfume and that she half-heartedly tried to comfort him while explaining that they were going to the Risembool Orphanage.

His crying had only intensified when the past an open door in the hospital hallway. Inside he was sure that he saw his brother's small frame, looking bandaged up all over with tubes sticking out from, what seemed to be, everywhere. He cried out after his brother but was quickly hushed by the stiff woman.

"He is gone," she had said. '_Gone?', _Al thought_. "But he's right there!"_That was the last time Al had seen anyone of his own flesh and blood. Pinako had come for him already the following day after learning what had happened. He would be forever grateful for what their family had done for him, but no one could ever replace his own biological family. Pinako was now his legal guardian. Even if she technically was his adoptive mom, she was still, and would always be Granny.

Alphonse realized that he was lost in thought as the car stopped in front of a large concrete building. A sign read 'Central Military Hospital', and his breath was caught in his throat.

"Are you okay?" Winry asked softly, gently stroking her hand on his shoulder, shaking him back from his memories. Her hand was shaking subtly, and he could relate to her nervous energy.  
"I'm a bit scared too," she admitted.  
"I'm okay," he said hoarsely, opening the door and stepping out.

_This was really it. After twelve years, he was going to see his brother again._

* * *

**I finally managed to finnish another chapter! I was hit with a major writers-block, and could for the love of God not finnish as much as a paragraph. I know this chapter is a bit "chatty", but there still was a lot of stuff to resolve, now closing in to the end.**

**Thank you so much for reading! **


	11. Chapter 11

Entering the building, the foursome was greeted by a black-haired man with a serious look on his face. A jacket just like General Armstrong's was draped over his arm, and the three upper buttons of his shirt were unbuttoned.

On his right side, a taller blond man with an unlit cigarette hanging limply between his lips was hunched over, talking to a receptionist with a sly grin. He turned around as he saw the darker man move towards the new arrivals.

None of them looked as groomed as Alphonse had expected military officials to be. The stubbles on the stern man's cheek looked to be more than a day old, and both of them looked worn out.

General Armstrong saluted the dark man, straightening his back. _"Sir!"_  
The black-haired waved Armstrong's gesture off, shaking his head.

"That's okay, general. Thank you for your help. You are dismissed," he mumbled.

Armstrong lowered his hand but didn't leave. Instead, he took a seat next to a bespeckled man and proceeded to talk quietly.

Roy smiled weakly when he looked at Alphonse. If there had been any doubt, there was none anymore. This was the son of Van Hoenheim and the brother of Edward Elric. He looked like the missing link between the two.

Roy recognized Edwards' intense stare and golden hair in the young man standing before him. His eyes were a slightly greener shade, but still bright and woke like his brother's. He had his father's bone structure with a defined jaw-line and strong shoulders.

Hoenheim's work in the military had been kept secret, but Roy remembered his intimidating presence as clear as day. The young man in front of him was far from frightening though. His facial features were soft and kind.

"I'm Colonel Roy Mustang," he said and met Alphons' firm handshake.

"Alphonse Rockbell... Uh, Elric."

Roy turned towards the two women and greeted them with handshakes as well.

"This is Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc," his hand gestured towards the tall blonde.

"T'sure, is. Nice to meet you," Havoc greeted the small family with the same sly smile, winking and flipping an imaginary hat towards Winry. Which earned him an insulted "hmph" from the receptionist and several smacks in the arm by Pinako.

"She's sixteen years old you pig-faced grunt!" she scolded angrily, as the man shrank down to her size, muttering apologies as he tried to protect himself from the old lady's surprisingly heavy blows.

Ignoring (or perhaps just being used to) the situation, Roy turned his attention back to Al.

"I apologize for my appearance. I'm afraid I haven't been able to clean up since yesterday," he explained, sounding more professional than he felt.

"No worries," Al assured hurriedly. "Have you been here all night?"

"Yes. Edward has been staying with me during his time in Central. I'll explain everything later. I'm sure you are anxious to meet your brother."

Alphonse nodded energetically, but Pinako seemed hesitant. Roy noticed it and looked over her shoulder to a female officer.

"I believe you have spoken to Second Lieutenant Hawkeye," he said, waving her over. She approached with a warm smile, looking much more rested than her superior officer.

"I'm glad to finally meet you. I'm sure you have a lot of questions. We'll try our best to answer any of them, but I'm afraid we don't know much. This whole situation developed rather quickly."

"I just want to meet Edward," Alphonse said, looking pleadingly at Riza. She looked at Roy, and he nodded.

"You can come with me, Alphonse. I'm afraid only one person can visit at the time. Doctor's orders." Al followed obediently, glancing back at Winry and Pinako as they disappeared down a long, plain corridor.

* * *

Winry looked at the taller blonde woman with a frown. All of the blue uniforms were triggering, but Pinako's reassuring hand met her back, sensing the tension.

"Please tell me how you came about young Edward," she said firmly and Riza told the story, starting with how they had met at the train, and the following events that led them all here. The only part she slightly edited was her superior officer's irrational behavior at the beginning.

* * *

"Mr. Mustang?" Alphonse asked as they left the three women talking in the reception. Roy managed to suppress the need to correct his title.

"Yes?" he answered, and pressed the button to an elevator.

"What happened to him? I mean, Granny said he was sick from sleeping out in the snow, but you said he had been staying with you."

His concerned expression was met with what looked like a guilty smile.

"I'm not sure I know how to answer that," Roy said humbly.

"A lot of bad things have happened to your brother, Alphonse," he explained. The door of the elevator opened, and they stepped inside. Roy pushed the button for the second floor, and the elevator started to move from the ground floor which they were currently on.

"At the orphanage?" Al asked, looking guilty and not being able to meet the colonel's eyes.

"Yes. But, that's not your fault," he added quickly. "Somebody screwed you over, and we're going to find out who is responsible for that. This kind of mistake is inexcusable."

Al nodded, still not looking up.

"Anyway. Sometime last night he left my residence. He was already in bad shape. I can't claim that I understand exactly how his mind works, but he didn't think he deserved to stay with me as long as he couldn't do much to help out."

To Roy's surprise, this made Alphonse smile.

"Yeah, that's just how I remember him. He never wanted to accept help from anyone. Even as a small kid. Our mom used to joke about him demanding to changing his own diapers," Al chuckled at the memory.

"Sounds about right," Roy mumbled, but couldn't help the smile on his lips, as he stopped and turned around to face a door with the number 215 on it. Al took a couple of more steps before realizing that they were there.

"Is this it?" he asked silently, receiving an encouraging nod from the colonel.

"He knows that you are coming, do you want me to go in first to prepare him anyway?"

Al didn't know. Now that he was there, he froze. His reunion with his brother had played out time and time again in his mind on the long train ride, every probable scenario, but now that he was here, he felt paralyzed and scared.

"N-no," he finally stuttered and reached for the doorknob. Mustang took a step back to let the younger man through.

Entering the room, the first thing Al registered was the steady beeping from the heart monitor. The hospital bed was placed in the middle of the average-sized room, and in it laid his older brother's sleeping form. A breath was caught in Alphonse' throat at the sight of the battered and malnourished body. The missing arm was the most disturbing part of the picture. If Al hadn't known better, he would have thought that the person in front of him was several years younger than himself. But, no. This was Edward. His best friend and brother.

Alphonse swallowed, trying to get rid of the heavy lump that had appeared in his chest as he walked over to the bed. A chair was already set beside it, and he settled down on it. Again, he looked his brother over, in the disturbingly similar condition as the last time he had seen him. The bandages and wires... But this time, Al wouldn't let anyone take him away from him. He would never,_ ever_, part from his brother's side again.

Another hour went by before Edward started to wake up. The lights in the room had been turned on while he had been out, and the bright rays from the fluorescent lighting felt like it tried to cut through his cornea.

He tried to move a bit, confirming that, yep, his body is still non-functioning, as he let out a small moan. As a movement registered in his peripheral vision. He suddenly stiffened, remembering yesterday's talk with Roy, about...

"Alphonse!" Ed shut up from the bed, not caring about the pain that violently warned him not to move, and threw himself at the startled teen at his side.

It all happened so sudden, that Al didn't have time to register before the bandaged pocket-rocket threw itself at him. It took a couple of seconds before he realized what was happening, but once it did, he grabbed around his brother's narrow shoulders and returned the hug as tightly as he dared, not wanting to inflict him any more pain.

"I knew you were alive, brother! I did!" Alphonse finally released the tensioned tears he had wanted to release for hours, and couldn't help himself from grasping tightly at his hospital gown, not being able to get close enough to his beloved older brother.

"I had no idea," Ed's hoarse voice admitted, breaking in the middle of his sentence. "They, they said that..." Ed finally let go of his brother, needing to look him in the eyes. Al helped him back onto the bed with gentle hands, getting the tangled wires back in place, hoping they hadn't broken anything.

Glossy gleaming eyes met Al's, and they both took the sight of the other in.

"_Jesus Christ_," Ed shuttered. "We look like a couple of bawling lunatics." A bandaged hand wiped at the tears that had been streaming down his face just a couple of seconds ago.

"I'm so happy to see you, Edward," Alphonse smiled warmly, not bothering to try and hide the trails from his own tears.

"You too, Al... Listen, I-"

"You don't have to say anything. We were both lied to. Why, doesn't matter right now. I just want to catch up, tell you everything that has happened and learn everything about you."

The smile on Ed's lip weakened a bit. He wanted to know how his little brother had been, but he really didn't want to tell Alphonse about Drachma. It would crush him to know how Ed had it there, and knowing his brother, he would probably blame himself. If anyone was to blame for everything that happened, it certainly wasn't Alphonse._ It was Ed._

_There would never even have been a fire if it wasn't for Ed..._

"Brother!"

Ed was startled out of his thoughts and looked in surprise on his brother that was now standing with his hands on Ed's shoulders, shaking him gently.

"Are you feeling okay? Do you want me to get someone?"

At the realization that Alphonse was touching his scarred shoulder, Ed flinched a little. Al retracted his arms fast, looking at his hands in disbelief.

_He had hurt Edward_.

"I'm so, so sorry brother, I didn't think, I-I.. you looked so lost, I didn't mean to..."

"Relax," Edward reassured. "It's fine. I'm okay. Don't worry. I guess I'm just not used to... it being touched."

Al looked doubtfully at Ed, reluctantly sitting back down.

"Can I see it?" he finally asked.

"M-my shoulder?"

Alphonse nodded. Ed looked like he had to consider it for a short while, before he carefully pulled at the collar of the hospital gown, revealing a large scar covering most of if right chest area, continuing over his shoulder and under where his armpit should have been. A thin layer of skin covered the hollow pit that was where his arm had been amputated.

"Gangrene," Ed explained and shifted his gaze from his shoulder to his heavily bandaged leg-stump, even smaller now than it had already been.

Edward didn't actually know how he had expected Alphonse to react. Previous experiences had involved overwhelming pity, horror, disgust, and loud mocking laughter. He couldn't remember anyone looking this_ numb_ when first seeing his scars.

"It looks really bad," Al said in a flat voice as if all his energy suddenly had been drained. Ed decided not to answer and let Al process.

"I only got this," Al stated, rolling up the sleeve on his light blue shirt, revealing his pale scar. Ed couldn't help but think that it almost looked like a flaming hand had grabbed his small arm and left the mark.

"And you..." Al couldn't finish the sentence, his head bowing down as his hands went through his hair. "It's not fair," he uttered weakly while trying to strangle a sob.

Edward looked with concern at his distraught younger brother. Carefully leaning over, Ed tried to put his left hand on Alphonse, but he couldn't quite reach. The IV tugged slightly when his arm stretched out completely, and he had to give up.

"Al..."

"Stop it, Ed, I could have done something!" Al stood up, making the chair slide back a couple of inches. Edward looked at his brother with wide eyes.

"I saw you in the hospital room that day, Ed! Even if they told me that you were dead, I saw you and I knew it wasn't true! I tried to tell them, I did! They told me it was just wishful thinking, and so, I started to believe them! I should have made_ someone listen_!" Al sobbed into his hands, hiding the shameful look on his face.

"But no one did," he managed to squeeze out in a frail, distressed voice.

"Look at me," Edward's voice was calm and steady. Alphonse wiped his nose on his sleeve and looked with red eyes at him.

"You're not to blame for this. You were just 3 years old, that's... insane. You can't beat yourself up for something you had no control over. Promise me that, Alphonse, that you'll never entertain that kind of thoughts again."

Al couldn't continue to hold the tears back. Everything needed to be let out and today he apparently was a bottomless pit. Ed gave him an encouraging wave to come over, and Alphonse complied with no hesitation. He crawled carefully onto the bed and buried his face in his brother's chest and cried his heart out, shaking uncontrollably and clutching at the fabric of the hospital gown. Edward's hand stroke reassuring circles on his back, whispering that everything was going to be okay now into his ear.

_How Al had missed that voice._

* * *

Edward's heart was a puzzle that was much harder to solve with only one hand. The pieces were scattered all over, and he had dragged it along carelessly all of his 16 years on this earth. The clutter of pieces facing the wrong way, pieced together with an incompatrable piece, _many_ missing completely, only seemed to scatter about more and more, making it harder to find the pieces that were supposed to go together. The box had disappeared so early that he never got a good look at what it was supposed to look like.

But then Alphonse came along. The most prominent corner-piece he thought was lost, essensial to connect the framework.

Al carefully placed it down, right where it was supposed to be.

Now Ed finally knew he could assemble the rest of the picture, no matter how many pieces were lost, however long it would take. One of the missing pieces of his broken heart,_ was found_.

* * *

**I fluffed it up! **

**Thank you guys so much for reading this. Despite fear for this story overstaying it's welcome, I am planning two more chapters (including an epilogue). Really hope everyone is enjoying the story! **

**I'm also thinking about making a sequel to this, based on something from the epilogue, if anyone wants that (I'm also taking suggestions, if anyone have something they would like to happen)! **

**Staaay awesome!**


	12. Chapter 115

**So, I wrote this in about 30 minutes. It's a really short chapter, but I found it so sweet that I really felt like it deserved to stand on its own. Hope you like it!**

* * *

Roy decided to rejoin the rest of the group downstairs and let the brothers have some time by themselves after he was assured that everything was going smoothly. He had waited for a while, fighting off two different nurses who pointed out that it was outside of visiting hours, as well as someone who came by to check in on Ed. It could wait an hour.

They had moved to the cafeteria. It had more comfortable seats, as well as coffee. Vital, beloved, crappy coffee.

Hughes had already held an hour-long power point presentation about his precious daughter when he came back, with everyone- curiously except Winry (who was gooing and dancing and gushing with overwhelming love in her eyes), seemingly asleep (which, Hughes expectantly was completely oblivious to).

Roy cleared his throat to announce his arrival, getting everyone's attention.

"How did it go?" Hawkeye asked expectedly.

"It seems to be going very well," Roy smiled reassuringly, slapping Hughes in the back of the head as he walked by.

Another hour passed, and Winry was getting restless.

"Colonel Mustang, sir?" she asked shyly, head bowed and hands folded submissively.

Roy smiled mildly at the young girl. "Yes, Miss Rockbell?"

"I'm sorry for being impatient, but I would really like to see Edward as well, and, make sure that Alphonse is doing okay. I'm very worried, sir."

Roy looked at a watch placed on the wall, noticing that it was more than two hours since Alphonse had entered the room. He made a quick decision,deciding that another visitor couldn't be much more straining for Ed's condition, considering the circumstances.

"I'll show you to his room if you want to," he answered calmly and got up.

"Thank you so much, sir," she smiled, face lit up with gratefulness.

At this point, Roy knew the way to Edwards room in his sleep. They walked in silence, and he noted that Winry seemed extremely apprehensive in his presence. It wasn't uncommon. Uniforms often had that affetct on people, giving the ones wearing them instant authority. Also, he carried himself in a somewhat timid matter. He hadn't a vulnerable bone in his body, outwardly. Not like Havoc, Hughes or Hawkeye. Or Armstrong, who cried at the drop of a hat, and with the blond swirl on his forehead, making him look like an oversized toddler.

He couldn't help but wonder if it was a good thing or a bad thing.

"Colonel Mustang, may I ask you something?" Winry asked, breaching the silence in the elevator.

"Of course Miss Rockbell," Roy answered as disarmingly as possible.

"Did you fight in the war?" she asked, out of the blue. Her question took him by surprise, and for a second, he could hear the sound of explosions and pained yelps. He got back to his senses fast, as he usually did.

"I assume you mean the Ishvalan war. Yes- I did," he said honestly, not losing his stoic expression.

"My parents died in that war," she said quietly, looking at her feet. "They were doctors."

Roy sighed. That's why she seemed so anxious around him.

"I'm sorry to hear that. Unfortunately, many good people lost their lives in that war." He joined her in looking down. "I lost many of my good friends."

"My parents helped people," she said with a trembling voice. "They helped, both the Amestrian army and the Ishvalan people. That's why they were killed."

Something about her tone was accusing, Roy noted. He couldn't blame her. After all, he also blamed him.

"I _am_ really sorry for your loss, Miss Rockbell. I know it's not much of a comfort, but your parents probably saved a lot more people than I did. They did in no way die in vain."

Winry was about to say something, hurt in her eyes and in need of someone to let out her frustrations on. Roy's eyes had gotten dark, darker than their usual onyx as he interrupted her.

"You know, I'm called a _war hero_," he said with clear distaste in his voice. "It's bullshit. People like your parents are the real heroes of that war. The innocent. The ones that acted purely by the love in their own hearts. They were healers. All I left behind was destruction. Miss Rockbell- I'm not asking for your forgiveness, because I don't deserve it. I'm just asking you to be proud of the lives of your parents. Don't mourn them, celebrate them."

Winry was taken back. She didn't expect those words coming from someone bearing the uniform she had to spend most of her life hating. _Yes, she truly hated that blue outfit and anyone wearing it_.

For the first time, she dared to look at the older man's face. The pain in his eyes made her decide to do something she would never in her live imagine doing. She took a step forward _and_ _hugged him_.


	13. Chapter 13

Roy carefully opened the door to room number 215 and peeked inside. A small smile appeared on his face at the sight of the two brothers, both fast asleep on the bed. Alphonse laid, resting his head on Edward's arm, while Ed had his hand snuggled in his younger brother's hair.

Gently, Roy put his hand on Winry's back and lead her into the room. She stopped as she came through the door and looked to the bed and the two forms in deep peaceful sleep.

She stood like that for some time, taking in the sight before lowering her head silently. Roy noticed that her shoulders were trembling.

"Are you okay, Miss Rockbell?" he asked calmly, reaching out for her shoulder.

Quickly, she looked back up at the Colonel, revealing a smile and nodded eagerly.

"Yes," she stated with glinting blue eyes. "I am just relieved." A shaky breath left her, finally relaxing her shoulders.

Roy stepped back, contemplating if he should leave. His thoughts got interrupted by Winry's high pitch voice. "What happened to him?"

"The fire," he answered simply, understanding that her question was directed at the missing arm. "His arm and left leg."

"Oh," she mumbled weakly.

Al stirred a little and his eyes fluttered open, woken by the sound of the quiet talking.

"Sorry, we didn't mean to wake you," Roy said immediately at the confused look on the boy's face.

"No, that's okay. I guess I fell asleep," he said in a slight daze and scrambled to sit back up. He looked back at Ed's still sleeping form and smiled. "Don't worry about him though. He's always been a heavy sleeper."

Roy nodded almost unnoticeable. He had noticed.

"I'll leave you three alone." Roy stepped towards the door and was about to open it up as Al's voice stopped him.

"Edward told me everything that you've done for him, Colonel. Thank you."

Roy stiffened from Al's words. _Edward had... what? Wait, what? _

Something in Roy's reaction must have revealed his confusion, even as he was standing with his back turned against them.

"If you hadn't taken him in, he wouldn't even have survived the first night in Central," Al elaborated with an ease that made Roy chuckle bitterly.

_If it hadn't been for him, Edward wouldn't have hurt himself in the first place. _Roy turned to face them with a crooked smile before he shook his head.

"I haven't..." Roy stopped himself with a sigh. "Thank you. I appreciate that."

"Thanks," a small whisper chimed in, and the attention shifted to Edward who still had his eyes closed. His lips were curved in a satisfied expression, and he let out a satisfied breath as he fell back to sleep.

* * *

_'Is that really Winry? No. Uh-uh. Can't be.'_

Ed looked at the young woman in disbelief. _She had developed quite a nice figure, with curves and big beautiful... uh, blue eyes_. Ed shook his head.

_'Nope. Winry was an annoying little squirt, not this (he wouldn't call it beautiful), but... c-cute, maybe?'_

"E-Edward? Do you remember me?" she asked, azure eyes bright and concerned looked down at him.

"Winry," he stated. "Of course I remember you." His voice was still painfully hoarse, and he choked down a coughing-fit, not wanting to seem any more pitiful than he already did. The force of the coughs instead made his nose run, and he awkwardly wiped his bandaged hand across it to cover it.

She laughed.

_'God, I'm so stupid.'_

"It's so good to see you, Ed. I almost couldn't believe it when they told us that... you know."

"Yeah, it's crazy," he mumbled, and vainly tried to loosen the collar of his gown.

_'Is it hot in here? I swear the temperature just rose...'_

An awkward silence followed until Winry finally found her words.

"Where... where have you been all this time?" she finally mustered, not being able to look him in the eyes.

Edward paused. He wasn't sure what to say. After leaving the orphanage, it had been kind of an unspoken agreement that he didn't have to talk about it. Roy knew a bit, Ed had noticed, probably from his personnel file that was sure to have been read by that nosy know-it-all.

"An orphanage," he said, contemplating how much they needed to know.

"How was it? Were they good to you?" she asked carefully.

"Win-" Al interjected, but Ed continued.

"It's okay. I don't really talk much about it. It was in Drachma. An institution for boy's with behavioral issues and... special needs." The last part was said with such distaste that Winry and Alphonse could almost taste it themselves.

"They weren't nice. But, I don't know. I wasn't very good either I guess," he chuckled bitterly. Something heavy lifted off his shoulders. Almost like relief. He hadn't realized it, but, maybe, he actually needed to talk about it.

"I tried to run off a few times, but I couldn't get far. It's not easy to run when you're practically missing half of your body." He shrugged, eyes stared blankly at the foot of the bed. Winry and Al listened intently. Ed glanced in their direction and suddenly felt a shiver down his spine, regretting opening up when he saw the pain on their faces.

Al spoke, as his brother seemed deep in thought and didn't continue. "Brother, I am so sorry." His hazel eyes were tearing up, and it broke something inside of Ed.

"No, no, Al. It's not your fault. Please, don't feel bad!" Ed said regretfully, wanting nothing more than to hug his brother and wipe those stupid tears off his face. He didn't ever want to be the reason for Al's tears ever again.

"But, but, it's just so unfair. You shouldn't have to go through all of that. With dad leaving, and mom..."

Ed could feel the warm sensation of something wanting to escape his eyes. He quickly wiped his hand across his face with a quick notion. When he let his hand down, he saw Alphonse's hand reaching for something in the messenger bag he had left on the floor.

A small capsule was lifted from it, and Al unlocked it, retrieving something silvery and round.

_A pocket watch?_

Edward's eyes grew wide with recognition. Alphonse held the chain as the watch dangled from his fist, and he opened it carefully before handing it to his older brother.

With some difficulty, Ed accepted the watch and looked at it with surprise written all over his fatigue features.

"You... you still have these? But _how_?" There was no holding back the tears now, as he watched the fading engraving and then to his brother, who held his own watch in a tight grip. He nodded.

"Yeah, granny found them a couple of days after the fire."

Winry leaned over Al's shoulder to see what he was holding. She had never seen it before.

"Our father got us them when we were born," Al explained and let her take a look at it. He knew her fingers were itching with the desire to pick it apart and resemble it. _His sister was such a gear-head._

"This is..." Ed's voice broke, and he furiously wiped away the tears before they could even leave his eyes. "Al, this is amazing." He looked at his brother with such awe, and he never wanted to let go of the only part of his parents he had touched since he was four years old.

"They're a bit damaged, but..."

"It's okay," Ed interrupted, tears now streaming down his face. He cried freely, not caring who could see it. "It's fine, Al. So, are we."

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading! I can't seem to finish this story. I really like writing**** it. This is another short chapter, but there will be another update soon!**

**Stay awesome!**


	14. Chapter 14

**This chappy is going to be angsty af.**

**I'm really sorry for the wait- I've been dealing with life to such an extent that I've just been a zombie for the last weeks.**

**I realize time and time again that I don't really want to finish this story. It's my baby, kinda.**

**Warnings for this chapter: descriptions of death and some cursing.  
**

* * *

About an hour later, Roy couldn't stall the nurses any longer. Two reluctant teens were ushered out of the room so the nurse could check on Ed's wounds and give him his medications.

The Rockbells left to check in to their hotel after fighting off an overbearing Maes Hughes and his absolute insistence that they should stay at his house. Pinako thought that the man must really have a _miserable_ home life if he needed their company so badly.

Roy re-entered the room to see Edward laying back on the bed with fresh bandages and renewed bags of fluids and pain medications on his IV stand. He closed the door quietly behind him.

"How are you holding up?" he asked, giving an involuntarily compassionate smile.

Ed's attention was directed at him, before his gaze quickly turned to face his lap, dragging his arm across his face. That was when Roy realized how shaky Ed's breath was. Teeth clapping while he tried to clench his jaw shut to make them stop.

"Ed..." he exhaled and went to sit by the bed. "What's going on?"

"I- I don't _know,_" he trembled, hiding his face to the best of his abilities. "I've never been so happy in my entire life and still... I just can't stop _shaking_ or _crying_ or feel like..." Ed pulled his hair as his voice shattered.

Roy had no idea what to do. How in the world was he going to comfort the kid? He couldn't think of a single instance in his whole life where he had been able to comfort _anybody_. The only thing he was good at, was _causing_ the grief.

The lack of solace didn't seem to matter to Ed. He was about as used to being comforted as Roy was to be the comforter.

"I've spent my whole life..." Ed started, sniffing slightly and trying to get a hold of himself. "...feeling like I've been in everyone's way. I mean- I'm an invalid, you know?" Ed was finally able to meet Roy's eyes.

Roy noticed something more sincere in his golden gaze. Something more vulnerable and honest than he-_ with his hand on his heart-_ could say that he had ever seen. A fire burning more fierce and brightly than he could imagine that even their house had been, that fateful day.

"Everything that has happened the last few days, almost makes me feel like... I'm_ wrong_," he looked at Roy, surprised and almost not believing his own statement.

"I've never felt like I've been wanted, and yet, something tells me that... for the first time..." he continued, while his breaths became more rapidly, and he shook his head, clearly struggling to contemplate everything.

"_He wants me_, Roy. Alphonse _actually_ wants me. I mean- when everything went down- when mom got killed in the fire and I thought Al was gone too... and I was sent to Drachma... The only family I had left was Hoenheim. And... and_ he_ didn't even want me._ God_," he pulled his bangs down his face as the tears once again came streaming.

"I used to lie awake _every night_ _praying_ that all of a sudden, he'd show up and take me away from the hell I was in... _But he never did._ I really truly thought that I was just a waste of space. I thought... I thought I was the _one fucking person_ that overcrowded the entire planet all by myself. _The least useful little shit_..." He cut himself off from his rant to catch his breath and brush away the tears.

He exhaled sharply. "I don't think I've ever cried this much my entire life, I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," Roy said softly. Even he was surprised by his delicate tone. "You know... my parents died when I was really young too."

Ed's head shot up, listening intently as his rescuer opened up to him for the first time.

"I used to think it was my fault. There wasn't any logical reason to it, it's just how one's young mind works sometimes. I had these thoughts that, if I had only done_ one_ thing-_ anything_\- different that day, that _maybe,_ it would have had a different outcome. The butterfly effect." Roy scoffed.

"It was foolish, really. No matter what I would have done that day, it wouldn't have changed my parents plans to go out fishing. It wouldn't have changed the fact that it was raining, and it certainly wouldn't changed the fact that the storm had hit before they could row back to shore," he paused.

The_ all too familiar_ _heartbreak_ that he had pushed away and ignored for so long was grabbing a hold on him, stabbing him in the chest repeatedly as the pictures of the search team, police, coast guard and the diving team crept back to his mind. Remembering the transparency of his fathers blue skin (_that he had been reminded of when finding Ed_) as his body had been retrieved from the water. His mother was never found. The current had taken her further away, letting the depths of the sea swallow her into it's infinite void of darkness.

To this day he was afraid of the ocean and he still couldn't _stand _the rain. He exhaled sharply through his nose before he was able to continue.

"My aunt adopted me. She is an amazing person," _'I wish you could meet her'_ he thought but didn't dare to say it out loud. "And she opened her home and her heart for me. But, I was angry. I wasn't able to understand _why_ at the time, and I certainly didn't have the words to explain it, but I blamed myself for so long, that it almost wrecked my relationship with the_ one person_ I knew I could count on," he sighed.

"Maybe that was what I was trying to do. I didn't feel like I deserved it... I guess what I am trying to tell you, Edward... is that you are much more emotionally mature than I was at your age. You might not believe it yourself and you're probably the most stubborn person I've met in my entire life, except for myself," he added. "But _please_, I'm _begging_ you. _Believe_ the Rockbells, believe your brother, Hawkeye, Havoc and myself, when we tell you that you are _wanted_. You are an _amazing_ young man, wise beyond your years, smart and so _completely capable_ to do whatever you put your mind to."

Ed looked at Roy's sad smile, feeling overwhelmed and a little embarrassed. How could he not have realized sooner that _he-_ _they-_ truly cared?

"Well, maybe except for growing another arm and leg," he chuckled carefully. Roy responded with a smirk.

"Never say never. I don't know if you remember this, but The Rockbell's are manufacturing prosthetic limbs."

Ed's eyes grew almost disturbingly wide at that statement and his jaw malfunctioned, leaving his mouth gaping as he tried to form any form of intelligent reply. It came out sounding more like a toddler who'd just found out it could make other sounds than crying.

After a short while, Ed was able to pull himself together.

"I- I don't know if they told you Roy, but they want me to come back with them to Risembool," Ed managed to say.

Roy felt his heart sink in his chest. A little puzzled at the unfamiliar feeling, he plastered a smile on his lips.

It wasn't as if he had imagined that Edward would stay with him. Why would he? He'd only known the kid for the better part of a week. There was no way he could bond with a person that quickly. After all, he had never been a people-person. Also, he couldn't take care of a child! Much less a child with a_ disability. A very much capable child with a disability, _he corrected himself.

He didn't have anything to offer a kid like Ed. In Risembool, there were probably many kids Ed's age, and he would have his family there. The small part of it that was left anyway. He would go back to a place he knew. He would finally _go home_.

"That's great," he heard himself say, giving it everything he got to sound sincere.

Ed nodded. "Yeah, I think... I think it will be nice."

* * *

That night when Roy came home, he got drunk. He got _fall-flat-on-your-face-and-wake-up-spooning-the-toilet _drunk.

What was happening to him? He had always been completely content with living on his own. He loved his freedom. He loved being able to get shitfaced whenever he felt like it and not having to answer to _anyone_. In his thirty years, he had always enjoyed his solitude._ So why did it all of a sudden feel like something was missing?_

The ghost of a rude teen with his nose in a book, sitting silently in the couch- opposite from his favorite chair- still resided in his living room. The ghost lingered in every room of his house. The living room, kitchen, the study, and his guest bedroom- there he was. Or wasn't. He was supposed to be... No. This was all wrong.

Roy always seemed to be missing something or someone, that he knew he couldn't have anymore.

It was almost two in the morning. '_Fuck it_' he thought, and grabbed his phone, calling a number he would never admit that he had memorized.

A sleepy but alert voice answered the phone after a little while.

"_Riza Hawkeye_," the voice said and sounded like sugar and honey to Roy's ears.

"Riza... I _really fucking_ _need_ you."

* * *

**To be continued! The next chapter is going to be a fluff-fest. **

**Please feel free to leave a comment/review! Subscribe to be notified about story updates! **

**Stay awesome!**


	15. Chapter 15

Riza hung up the phone. She knew that the decision she was about to make would potentially change everything between her commanding officer and herself.

Sure, they had both _done things_ that were a little out of line between a superior and a subordinate in the past, but those times, had been before the war, or they had completely left their working relationship aside and been the old friends they initially were.

Every time their relationship would step somewhat out of bound, they would always bounce right back the day after, as if nothing ever happened.

Somehow just knew that wouldn't be the case this time if she…

They were much older, and after everything that had happened the last week and the vulnerability Roy had shown (which she knew was there- but the _stubborn, _to quote Edward_, bastard-_ wouldn't let it out- if so his life depended on it) made her think that something inside of him was about to actually fracture this time.

No one knew as much or understood Roy Mustang better than Riza Hawkeye (_and possibly Madame Christmas_), so she had seen the pain in his eyes when he looked at Edward in that hospital bed. Whatever Roy's reasons were, Edward being an orphan, being too smart for his own good, alienated from and rejected by the world, lost and found... He identified with the kid. On a level, he probably had never been able to with anyone else.

_She was sure Roy didn't even realize it himself._

And with that thought in mind, she grabbed her coat and car keys and locked the door behind her.

* * *

Less than fifteen minutes later she stood at his doorstep. What seemed to turn into a snowstorm was on the rise, and she knocked impatiently at the heavy wooden door as she huddled her thick woolen coat around her even more tightly. Roy opened the door shortly after, looking worn out and smelling of strong liquor. He stepped aside and let her enter, grabbing her coat for her.

"I'm sorry for calling so late," he mumbled, with a slight slur in his speech.

She didn't answer and caringly straightened his tousled bangs, looking worriedly at the slightly taller man and letting him lean into her touch, closing his eyes and sighing in a relieved tone.

"You want a drink?" he asked as he unwillingly tore himself away from her touch.

"Sure."

Riza followed him into the living room, where an extra glass was already placed on the coffee table.

"You want a fancy drink, or do you want plain ol' whiskey?" he asked _as if he didn't already know the answer._

"Just plain ol' whiskey for me, Mustang."

He nodded in silence, with a curved smile on his lips as he filled both of their glasses, a bit closer to the rim than the standard was, but he knew that this was also usually more to her liking. She accepted the glass as he reached it to her and sat heavily down in the couch next to her.

"I'm sorry for calling you so late..."

"I know, Roy. You already said that" she smiled mildly.

"I did? Oh..."

"What's going on with you? Are you okay?"

"Sure, yeah, everything is just... _peachy._"

"Uhu, I can tell," she retorted sarcastically, as she watched the man she called her superior crumble by the force of alcohol and her presence.

"...he's leaving with the Rockbells," he stated simply, in a somewhat bitter tone. "When he's being released from the hospital."

"Isn't that a good thing? We found his family."

"_You_ found his family, Riza. And I am, I _am._ I just... I don't know what I expected. I kinda liked having him hanging around... is that weird?"

"For you? Yeah," she chuckled, making Roy groand loudly. "But, do you know what I think?" she asked.

"No?" he said with as little conviction as a shy kid saying no to candy.

"I think you want to be his Madame Christmas," she sneered.

_"Fuck no_," Roy exclaimed suddenly, almost choking on his drink. "I _do not_ want to raise the kid in a brothel and making him have strange feelings of the girls I call his sisters," he looked stiffly at nothing, lost in memory that he clearly didn't know how to feel about.

"That-" (_was weird even coming from intoxicated-Roy_) "...'s _not_ what I meant..." Riza said slowly. "I mean, you've helped him a lot. If he didn't run into you, literally, he'd probably be dead right now, and even _you,_ you_ self-condescending moron,_ know that. You clearly feel responsible for him."

Roy sunk fyrther down into the couch.

"And _maybe.._." best to tread carefully, "...you care for him?"

"_Of course I do!_" Roy spat back, but almost jumped by his own reaction and at the realization. "Of course I do..." he repeated. "Shit, Riza... I_ care_ for him."

"It's a huge day for Roy Mustang," she mumbled. "Realizing he was not actually made of stone."

Roy rubbed his face tiredly. "Why does the military even pay for psychologists? They already have Riza Hawkeye."

"Trust me, this is exclusively for you," she smiled. "If I was to listen to Havoc telling me about all of his girlfriends for an hour every week, I'd be the one who needed therapy."

"I already do that on a daily basis, and... yeah. I'm lucky to have you."

"And _I'm_ happy you know it."

They sat in comfortable silence for a short while. Their bodies slowly, but steadily leaned closer to the other and not before long, Riza was leaning her head into the creek of Roy's neck as he rested his head on top of hers.

He couldn't help himself. He placed a careful kiss on her head, making her head tilt up a little, looking into his eyes. Mahogany eyes stared a hole into Roy's soul, and he knew what he wanted and he knew what she wanted. She knew what she wanted and she knew what he wanted.

_Why did they always deny themselves what they both knew they wanted?_

Riza sat back up. She took her glass and shot back the rest of the liquid, shaking her head to chase back the burning sensation.

_She for one- had had enough of that._

She grabbed a hold of Roy's hair and assertively made him look at her for a second before she went for the kiss.

He retuned it without hesitation. It was hard, teethy and lustful. New, but yet familiar. Vigorous but soothing.

They eventually had to forcefully tear away from each other to catch their breaths- Onix looking into maroon eyes as they both panted rapidly.

Riza gave him a sly smile as she grabbed his hand and lead him upstairs.

* * *

Roy awoke the next day, much more relaxed than he had been the last couple of days. Not well rested, Riza had made sure of that, but_ definitely_ more relaxed.

He turned his head to see the blonde sleeping with her back facing him. His eyes trailed over the soft skin of her tattooed back, and snickered at the thought of First Lieutenant Riza Hawkeye, having a huge back-tattoo.

'_Young and dumb'_ she had said, the first time they had laid like this, telling him about her first boyfriend who had given her the tattoo at 18. Apparently he was a much older tattoo-artist. Roy couldn't imagine Riza with some buff tattooed guy in his late twenties.

_...Maybe he should get a tattoo?_

She stirred a little, letting a tired moan leave her throat as she turned around.

"Hey there," she smiled quietly. The shimmer of the rising sun through the window made her eyes sparkle while her lips curled into a small smile.

"You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen," Roy answered.

Riza blushed and covered her face with the duvet. When she peered back up, Roy had moved closer and pulled her into a warm embrace, letting their naked bodies intangle into each other.

"We should be getting ready for work," she said, without resisting.

"Don't care," he smirked. "We'll say we went to visit Edward."

"Oh!" she exclaimed, jolting away from him as if she had been electrocuted. "Shit, I forgot! I... what time is it?" She searched frantically around the room for a clock. Roy sat back up and reached into the pocket of his uniform, retrieving his pocket watch.

"It's only six thirty, don't worry."

"No, it's not... It's not that," she said, sliding back under the covers. "I was supposed to tell you yesterday, but I got… _distracted._"

"My pleasure," Roy said with a sly grin. Riza laughed. Roy thought about how long it was since he had last heard that laugh.

"I spoke with the Risembool orphanage that Alphonse Elric was sent to yesterday. I got the name of his caseworker. She might be able to answer some of the questions we have."

Roy's eyes snapped open and suddenly he felt wide awake.

"Really? When are you going to speak with her?"

"She retired a couple of years ago, and she actually settled not too far from here. It shouldn't be more than an hour car ride. I figured I'd surprise her with a little home visit."

"I'd like to come with you."

Riza nodded affirmatively. "I was thinking of being there around ten."

"Great," Roy mumbled. "That gives me plenty of time time to distract you a little further."

His hands grabbed around her hips as he pulled her into another deep, passionate kiss.

* * *

Roy called the HQ and told them that Hawkeye and himself wouldn't be in until later, with a short debriefing for Havoc about the plan of meeting up with the caseworker. After a short but nice breakfast, they decided to stop by the hospital and tell Edward too, before they left.

* * *

Ed looked better today, having gotten a bit of color back in his face that wasn't a feverish blush. He was sitting upright in the bed, poking his spoon into the mushy porridge they served for breakfast, with a very distinct grimace on his face.

His door was slightly open, so Roy knocked on the door frame before they entered.

Ed jumped, winching a little at the movement, but smiled when he saw them.

"Oh, hey."

"Good morning Edward," Riza smiled, handing him the box of scrambled eggs with pieces of bacon they had brought for him.

"I figured hospital food usually doesn't agree with_ anyone_, so maybe you'd like something else."

The awe on Ed's face was apparent, his mouth almost watering over at the sight of something else than the mushy, overcooked or completely sogged-in-brown-sauce meals _(that almost gave the orphanage a run for its money)_, they were served at the hospital.

"Thank you_ so_ much First Lieutenant," he said and immediately dug the spoon he could bearly get a grip on into the delicious-looking food.

"Anytime," she smiled.

"How are you feeling?" Roy asked. They both kept standing, somewhat sending the feels out that they weren't staying too long.

"Better," Ed uttered with his mouth stuffed, but still showing some amount of pain when swallowing the food.

"We're actually just stopping by to tell you something," Roy started to say. Edward was more interested in the food, only muttering a silent '_mhm_', between mouthfuls.

"We're going to meet with the social worker that left with Alphonse to the orphanage after the fire today," Riza finished.

Edward almost choked on his food. It led to a rough coughing fit, painfully reminding him that pneumonia wasn't cured over-night.

"What?" he gasped, clearing his throat to try and get rid of the scratchiness. Absentmindedly he reached for the glass that was placed next to the porridge and gulped down a couple of sips before his mind started to register what the liquid was.

He spat out what was left in his mouth, and desperately tried to dry his tongue off with his hand.

"Ugh! No! Yuk! That's so nasty!" Ed gagged.

"...Edward?" Roy asked carefully, watching the kid having a complete tantrum over a glass of milk.

Ed scowled hostile at the milk._ 'Was he trying to intimidate the glass?'_

"Sooo... how do you feel about that?" Roy asked tryingly, looking for some sort of confirmation from Hawkeye. She looked unimpressed.

"About wha... oh," Edward retorted, releasing his death-stare from the poor innocent milk. "Uh, I'm not sure. I guess I'm a little surprised."

"Caught you a bit of guard, didn't it?" Riza said with a tenderness in her voice that Roy knew there was no way his deep baritone could muster.

"I guess. Do you think she knows something about what happened at the hospital?"

"She's our safest bet at this point," Riza admitted. The hospital had been astonishingly un-cooperative, even as she pulled her rank.

Ed looked thoughtful for a second before he spoke. "Would you mind, maybe... taking Alphonse with you? This whole thing has been really hard on him and I was thinking- it might help him to realize that it wasn't his fault, you know? If he talked to someone who actually... maybe could have done something."

Roy and Riza both looked surprised and turned to look at the other.

"I guess if he wants to he could?" Roy said questioningly.

"Yeah, I could call the hotel right now and ask him," Riza nodded, sending Edward a reassuring smile and left for the phones.

"I hope she can tell him something to ease his mind," Ed said.

"What about you?" Roy asked, sitting down by the bed after all.

"What about me?" Ed asked, seeming genuinely confused.

"Don't you want something to ease your mind?"

"I already have- Alphonse and the Rockbells," Ed explained lightly.

Roy scoffed. "Oh, kid. You're too good for your own... good."

"_Not_ a-"

"I know, I know. _Not a kid_," Roy waved him off.

Ed lowered his head, fiddling with one of the wires that stuck out of _who knows where._

"I'm not that good, you know..." he finally mustered. Roy didn't answer. He just watched Edward, neither encouraging or discouraging whatever Ed wanted to say.

"Do you... do you remember that first day at your house? When you asked me what had happened, um, when our house burnt down?" he said hesitantly.

"Sure. I do," Roy confirmed.

"I told you that I didn't remember what happened, but... I lied."

Roy stiffened. "Listen, Edward. You don't have to-"

"I think I want to though. I've never told_ anyone_\- as if they needed another reason to hate me..." Ed's thoughts seemed to trail off for a bit, but he shook his head, anchoring himself to the moment before he resumed.

"...Al and I had been outside playing all day and it started to rain. We were both soaked when we got back inside. Mom was getting Al ready for bed while I sat in the living room, cuddled up in a blanket. Mom had lit the fireplace and told me several times not to get too close to it. But- I was so cold... so I sat right by it. Then..."

"...the blanket caught on fire," Roy finished, as Ed was unable to say the words.

"I remember the-" Ed swallowed harshly, "...the smell and panic, so vividly, when the blanket lit on fire and the pain when the... skin on my arm started to melt- and I- I tried to get the blanket off of me but the flames just _kept burning_ and my pant leg suddenly started to melt together with the blanket and on to my skin, so I... I _screamed._ I didn't know what else to do. I just screamed. And, I- I know I don't remember what happened after that- but somehow my mind _always_ seems to trick me into thinking that I do and it litters my mind with these... images, horrible-haunting nightmares..."

"Ed..."

"...and I just don't know if it's real memories or not and mom- she was so_ so scared_ and then, she was_ angry and yelled_ because I had been bad-"

"_Edward_," Roy said sternly. Finally, Ed snapped out of it.

"Sorry, I was rambling, wasn't I?"

Roy's frown morphed into a sad smile as he shook his head.

"It's not that, Ed. I-" Roy took a deep inhale. "I just wanted to tell you that, you are _not_ to blame for that. Jesus Christ, you were what- four years old? And please, don't believe those nightmares to be real memories. It's just your misplaced guilt that..._ fucks with your mind,_ trying to satisfy self-destructive behavior. _Trust me_, I could've written a book on the subject..."

"...and probably should follow some of your own advice," a voice from the door stated. Riza came back into the room with the same mournful expression that Roy had.

"I talked to Alphonse. He wanted to come along, so we should probably get going," she said.

"Good," Ed looked satisfied and somewhat at peace as Roy got up to leave.

"See you later then, _shorty,_" Roy teased and ruffled his hair.

The peacefulness of Edward's posture disappeared straight away, as he puffed his cheeks and turned crimson red.

"Who... are... you... calling... so _short_ that he can bungee-jump off the curb?!"

"Where do you even _get_ these things from?" Roy stated in disbelief.

"I would hurt you right now, but you're so old that your blood type is probably discontinued," Ed gnarled, grinding his teeth.

"...aaaand we've overstayed our welcome," Riza concluded, grabbing Roy's arm and pulling him towards the door.

"Colonel bastard?" Ed asked as they turned to leave. Roy only looked at him with an exasperated stare.

"Before you called me the s-word..."

"That's _not_ the s-wor-"

"_Yes, it is!_" Ed yelled. "I was _trying_ to say thank you..."

Roy opened his mouth to say something- but Ed interrupted.

"But I reconsidered. _You're still a piece of shit._"

Ed grinned widely as Roy was pulled out of his room by Hawkeye before he could make a decent comeback.

* * *

**What was that about "two chapters" left? Never mind. I just want the ending to be good, and I haven't gotten to the point where I feel I can get that yet! So- stay tuned. There will be more!**


	16. Chapter 16

**This update has been a long time coming and I'm sorry to anyone who has waited! I think I lost a bit of inspiration with this chapter, finding it hard to keep it interesting to write- which probably would make it boring to read. I had to do something, so I did. Also, I've come to a point in my writing where I guess I've started to expect more from myself. So nothing ever really feels good enough. But hey- enough with the whining! I accept that my language will probably never be as diverse as a native English speaker and my best has mostly been good enough until now!**

**Please enjoy the chappy!**

* * *

The trip to the social worker's home had been less than uplifting and Al was left quiet and upset.

To be fair, they had arrived unannounced, but the woman had been unrelentingly unpleasant, and her indifferent attitude told a tale of someone who had lost the passion for their profession _years_ before their retirement- also apparently _well_ before the Elric brothers appeared into the system.

In spite of that, because of the morbidity of the case, she did remember it without having to look at the old files they'd brought. Her explanation of what had happened though, didn't make any of them feel better.

"I don't remember ever saying the _words_ that the older Elric was actually dead," she claimed huffily. "But, he was handicapped, so he might as well have been for anyone looking to adopt. Separating the two brothers would provide young Alphonse a much better chance of being adopted. You should be _thankful, _Mr. Elric, that we gave you a _much better _deal in life. If the invalid had to come along as some kind of package deal, you would simply _both _waste away under the care of the system. That wouldn't have served anyone any favors."

Al was fuming at the sound of her words. He wanted to just shake the_ old hag_, but he knew Granny Pinako would be disappointed in him if he resorted to such violence.

"It- it would have done Edward _all the favors in the world_," he said weakly instead, clutching his fists, fighting back the urge to _snap. _

He felt the steady hand of Riza Hawkeye on his shoulder, but he continued with determination anyway.

"You didn't even give him a _chance!_ Granny would have taken us _both_ in! I know she would! She_ works _with prosthetic_ limbs_ for goodness' sake! If you would have taken just _one fu-f-freaking _second to do your _damn job (aaand now he was going to get a scolding from Granny when he told her about this later)- _he could have lived an actually _decent life!" _

His outburst earned a door supposed to be slammed in their faces, but not before Roy could stick his foot in it.

"Something to consider," he said coldly. "_Listening,_" he added, before allowing her to shut the door completely, hearing her lock it behind her.

The three were left at her front door, defeated and unsatisfied.

The drive back was stained by the unsettling revelations. Roy couldn't help but wonder how many kids had suffered the same injustice as Edward at the "mercy" of tired, miserable social workers, caregivers, nurses, doctors and whoever else that _should_ have been protecting the disadvantaged children. Instead, children like Edward were being neglected and mistreated- _abused_, and he swore to make sure that every single soul that played a part in Edward being sent off to Drachma, would be held accountable in one way or another.

"How... how could they do that?" Al asked disbelieving, breaching the long silence in the car and stating what was on everyone's minds.

"I'm afraid I expected that," Riza said regretfully, glancing in the rearview mirror and meeting Alphonse's gaze. "I guess I just wished she would prove me wrong. That somehow, a horrible mistake had been made that separated you and your brother. Because this means that Edward isn't the only child that something like this has happened to."

"It's not _right,_" Alphonse stated bitterly, quickly wiping his eyes with the sleeve of his shirt when he believed no one was watching anymore.

Roy, who sat in the passenger seat, was looking straight ahead with a serious, but other than that, unreadable expression on his face.

"How are you doing, Colonel? You've been very quiet this whole trip," Riza asked, stealing a quick glance towards her superior, before shifting her concentration back on the road.

For a while, he didn't answer. Just kept his stare out of the window while keeping his same expression, until he finally decided to speak up.

"_One_ day," he said distantly, before falling silent again. A couple of deep breaths was inhaled before he continued. "_One_ day, was what it took before I started to care for Edward. Before that, I thought he was an annoying foul-mouthed brat. Which, _don't get me wrong,_ he still is. A _likable_ annoying, foul-mouthed brat."

He noticed Alphonse shift in the back seat, probably ready to come to his brother's defense, but Roy decided to ignore him. "_One_ conversation with him, made me understand that he is_ extremely _smart. _One _action proved to me how brave and capable he is, even without an arm and a leg. One _word _was all it took from him, for me to understand that he was though as rocks."

Roy paused.

"And that's _me. _I'm horrible with kids. I don't like them and they don't like me. It's a mutual understanding- _trust me._ But, it just proves how _little effort _it would take, to assess if he might have had a bright future or not. If he would have been too much work for a regular orphanage, instead of being sent away to an _institution_, or if he would be able to adapt. I cared for him within_ twenty-four hours._ That's not too much to ask anyone to give a child. If they have two legs, one leg or_ fucking none. Twenty four _hours isn't too much."

Riza and Alphonse knew to keep silent while Roy finished his train of thoughts. Even if it had been clear that he cared for Edward, it wasn't obvious that he would share his feelings in such an honest way.

Even if Al had only met him a day ago, he understood that _this, what was happening here, _wasn't an everyday occurrence, if not only from the way Riza was acting.

After a short while of tranquillity, Al was relieved when Riza spoke up.

"You are _absolutely right,_ sir. Unfortunately, what's done is done. We should focus on Edward's recovery from now on. Both physical and psychological."

No one disagreed on that statement. There wasn't that much left to say after all. The injustice had already been done.

They did not speak for the rest of the ride until they got close to the hospital again. Riza decided to break the silence.

"What do you think we should tell Edward?" she referred herself to both of the men in the car. Roy for the practicality of it all and Al, of the emotional part.

"I think we should tell him it was a mistake," Al said, while Roy answered at the same time, "we should tell him what happened."

A sigh was uttered in reaction to the totally opposite replies. It wasn't easy for any of them to know how Ed would react to either one of the scenarios. None of them had actually known him for the past years, so knowing what would be for the best, was hard for anyone to anticipate.

Al was the one to give in.

"You're probably right Colonel Mustang. I'm just worried that brother will..." he paused for a moment, looking for the words that would truly express the complex emotions he really felt. "...agree, I guess."

"It isn't unlikely," Roy murmured in agreement. "But I'm sure he can handle it."

* * *

Riza kindly reminded Roy of neglected paperwork and a couple of rescheduled appointments that needed to be addressed at the offices, and therefore, the two military officials left Alphonse outside the hospital, promising to come by a little later.

Al had to admit that it was a bit scary to go meet with his brother all by himself after what he had just learned. Not that he hadn't had the choice to wait, they did offer to drop him off at the hotel, but he had promised, ever since they had gotten the call from Central, that he would never leave his brother again.

_Edward had been on his own for far too long already. _

He stalled a little on his way to the second floor, taking the stairs and stopping to look at random artwork in the halls. He really, truly dreaded the conversation he was going to have in a few short minutes.

Outside of Ed's room, he stopped; breathing and thinking over how he wanted to lay all of this out to Ed.

He wanted him to know- _no, not just know- really understand,_ how wrong the decision of sending him to Drachma had been. How little thought the social worker actually had put into it, while still making sure that he knew _just how valuable he was _to Al, Winry and granny. As well as Riza and Roy. Maybe especially Roy. He wasn't sure if he should tell him about what Roy had said in the car or not. Perhaps it would be better coming straight from the source, but his words were so _right. _Right and _important._ It was the words of an outsider looking in, as well as having given his brother a real chance to shine, without even trying to.

Just taking him for what he was, and not writing him off as some broken and useless injured nuisance.

Al inhaled sharply, moving his hand to knock, waiting a couple of seconds for courtesy and walked in.

For a moment, he was relieved to see Ed sleeping. But, as he approached, he noticed his brother's sickly pallor. Beads of sweat from an elevated fever trailed down his face, while his breathing was much more labored than what he remembered from the day before.

"Ed?" he asked carefully, making his voice soft and reassuring, suppressing any sign of anxiety from his speech. His brother reacted with a small twitch, turning his face towards the sound without opening his eyes.

Alphonse wasn't sure if he was awake or not. Likely, he was dreaming vividly.

"Al?" his raspy voice called back in bearly more than a whisper. Something, not quite a sob, but close to it, left Edward's throat as the uneasiness of his already fitful sleep increased.

"I'm right here, brother," Al hurried to reply, as he dashed to his older brother's side, gripping his hand as tight as he dared to, to put his brother's mind at ease to the fact that he really was.

"I'm sorry," Ed's cries continued, not being able to pull out of the nightmares that tore at his body and mind inside the fever induced sleep. "I'm sorry, it's all my fault. It's... my fault, i's all m'..."

Ed's ramblings made Al grip tighter onto the wounded hand, and he clutched Ed's hand to his forehead while forcing his eyes tightly shut, trying to suppress how his brother's febrile whimpers were ripping up the barely healed wound in his heart, as he for the first time became conscious of how much _guilt _anguished the small and frail body in the bed before him. His neglected and abused older brother. The one that was forgotten about, but was still carrying the weight of _everything_ on his one shoulder all the same.

"Don't say that..." Al tried to comfort him, but the hurt look on Edward's face only got worse as he uttered painfully, "m'_so, so _sorry."

Tears from the creak of his eyes blended almost seamlessly with the droplet's of sweat, making it hard to know where the fever started and the sorrow ended.

Al started to worry about the worsening state of his brother's sickness. Wasn't he supposed to get better? He decided to pull the red thread that alerted the on-call nurses, hoping they wouldn't take too long.

Alphonse kept holding his brother's hand while whispering soothing words, trying to give solace to his brother's restless pleads for forgiveness.

After a couple of minutes, a short rap was heard outside, and one of the nurses Al recognized from the day before entered the room with a smile on her face. At the sight of Edward, the grin quickly turned serious as she walked long-legged across the floor to feel her patient's forehead.

She got an iffy look on her face, as she decided to check his vital signs and turned a keening eye to the machines and IV bags, apparently getting much more information out of them than Al had.

"How long has he been like this?" she asked huffily, without looking at Al.

The question felt accusingly to the teen, as he took a deep breath to keep himself from asking her what the hell she meant by that. As if _he _was the one who was supposed to know while his brother was under their care in the hospital.

"I don't know," he answered slowly instead, keeping his voice as low and strict as he could. That was the problem of being a teenager who still possessed the voice of a child- at least that's what it felt like to him. It always sounded way too chipper, in spite of how much of boiling hot rage he felt on the inside. "I just got here."

Winry always teased that all of his bottled-up anger was going to give him an ulcer one day. The price to pay for always being the nice guy.

The nurse clearly didn't sense the tension he felt when she proceeded to nod and check the charts of the back of his bed. Al's eyes followed her every move closely until she seemed to find what she was looking for.

"I have to ask you to leave while I call for a doctor, Mr. Elric," she said, voice silky and pleasant again. Al became visibly apprehensive by her request.

"Don't worry," she cooed. "I'm pretty sure we'll only have to change his antibiotics, but we need the doctor to assess that. You can go and get yourself a bite to eat while you wait."

_Pretty sure_, Al thought, but let it be. He knew she couldn't make him any promises, so she _had _to word it like that.

He gave her a faint nod in reply, reluctantly letting go of his brother's hand and trying to ignore how it seemed to feel around for the comforting touch when left on the blanket, before he forced himself to turn his back and walk out of the room.

Aimlessly, he walked down the long corridor, once again deciding to take the stairs. Maybe he should do as the nurse said and go to the cafeteria, he was a little hungry. Actually, he was always a little hungry.

Arriving back at the ground floor, he vaguely recognized a face, just entering the hospital. He tried to avert his gaze from the familiar man, not really in the mood to talk, but then, his name was yelled eagerly and he had no choice but react, as the tall bespeckled man approached, excitedly demanding his attention.

"Alphonse," he grinned widely, picking at his pockets, retrieving a bunch of photographs that he shoved in Al's face with an anticipating smile.

"Look at my precious little Elysia! My dear Gracia sewed her this costume for Halloween! Can you guess what she's supposed to be? Oh! Isn't she just adorable?"

Alphonse looked at the young girl in the pictures, dressed as a cat while being held in the air by her adoring father. _Something about the pose reminded him of a kids movie._

"Yeah, she makes a very cute cat," Al nodded, a little uncomfortable.

"She's a baby-lion!" he retorted, still smiling as he wrapped the pictures back into his pocket.

"I came by to see if Roy was around," the man that Al finally remembered was named Hughes explained. "We were supposed to meet for lunch today."

"Oh, uh, no- he's not. He had to go back to the office. He-" Al got interrupted by a noise, sounding like a whale's mating call. A stiff smile appeared on Al's face, laying a hand on his growling tummy with an apologizing chuckle.

Maes Hughes' attention was also drawn to the younger man's complaining stomach. An understanding smirk trailed onto his lips as he spoke.

"Well, since my lunch appointment apparently just got canceled, I think a slot just opened up in my schedule. Want to join me? I already packed for two and my wife's cooking is simply_ a-mazing_."

Al was grateful that he didn't have to eat whatever the hospital had the audacity to call food and gladly accepted the invite, following Hughes to get seated at one of the tables in the cafeteria.

Maes unwrapped a brown paper bag and took out several small plastic casings with delicious looking food, making Alphonse's mouth instantly water.

"Looks great, doesn't it?" he asked knowingly, radiating pride as he pushed several boxes in Al's direction. Stars appeared in the teen's eyes, as he threw himself over the homecooked meal.

They ate in silence for a minute, only interrupted by the occasional grunt, chewing noises and murmurs in appreciation of the food.

"So, how's your brother doing? Last I heard he seemed to be recovering well," Hughes commented in-between mouthfuls of quiche.

The taller brother suddenly stopped chewing, frowning at the question before swallowing it down. "Yeah, he was. But his fever has picked up a bit. I just got kicked out of his room so the doctor could attend to him."

Maes smile weakened a little and a furrow became visible between his eyes as he nodded thoughtfully.

"Well, as long as he looks better than what he did when we found him, I'm sure he'll pull through."

"He will," Al responded quickly, picking at his food. "He always does. It just doesn't feel right that he has to all the time. All he has ever done is fighting to survive."

Hughes sensed that there was a story there, beyond all the terrible things he all ready knew about the brothers. Fortunately, he didn't need to dig any further, since Al gladly elaborated.

"He was born prematurely at 28 weeks. He bearly weighed 2 pounds. I- I wasn't even born, so I don't know too much about what happened, but I know his heart wasn't working the way it should and they had to keep it beating until he was strong enough to survive the surgery. They had to get surgeons from Central to come in and do it." A great sigh was uttered, and Al looked depressively down at his meal.

"Dad was always fidgeting whenever Ed was running around and exerting himself. Even when he was healthy, he always had to turn his back so he wouldn't yell out and scare him," Al reminiscent with a sad smile. "So yeah, there hasn't really been a time in his life that he didn't have to fight to survive."

"What happened to your dad?" Maes asked curiously, receiving a shrug in response.

"I don't know really. I don't actually remember him. I only know what I've been told. Granny knew him pretty well from when they were younger," Al explained. "He walked out on us. He was supposed to come back apparently, but he never did. He's dead now."

"I'm sorry to hear that."

Another shrug.

"You don't seem to be angry with him though."

Al quirked his eyebrows in confusion. "I'm not."

"Why not?"

Al had to think about that. He never gave it much thought. "I guess, it's always just been like that. I don't really know things to be any different. But don't ask Ed about it though," Al added with a chuckle. "He'll bite your head off. He hates talking about him."

"Isn't it difficult to always be the level headed one?" Maes suddenly asked, almost bemused. "The calm, happy-go-lucky guy?"

"What do you mean, Mr. Hughes?" Al was surprised by the sudden turn-around.

"Wouldn't it be liberating to be the one to _snap _for once? The one that went off on a tantrum, leaving the clean up to the calm, situated guy? That's us, Alphonse. We're the cleaners. But, do you know what I've learned?"

"What?" Al asked, hardly any sound left his throat.

"We _can. And it's so much more effective. _Nobody takes Roy seriously whenever he starts arguing and raising his voice. But if I do, the whole room goes quiet. Not everyone who wants to be heard needs to yell."

Alphonse was taken aback and crossed his arms, wondering what kind of sorcery this man was exercising to know so much about him. _Or, more likely, what kind of vibes Al was giving out that categorized him so obviously as the giant push-over he was._

"Just something to consider," Maes smirked, letting Alphonse digest this possibly life-altering information.

Instead, Al decided to change the subject. "This really is the best quiche I've had my entire life."

Hughes face lit up like a match, happy to continue his rant about his lovely wife and enchanting daughter. At the end of their lunch, Al had agreed to bring Winry, Pinako, and Ed over for dinner before leaving for Risembool when Edward was healthy enough to travel.

Al walked Maes back to the entrance, about to say goodbye when the colonel walked in the door.

Mustang visibly cursed at the sight of his annoying supposed best friend, walking as if something was forcing him to move towards them.

"Roy!" Maes singsonged, already pictures in hand. "I thought you'd like an update on your gorgeous goddaughter!"

"I'm sorry Maes, no time right now, Al-" he cut himself off, resting a weary face in his hand, he turned back to his bespeckled comrade. "And I'm sorry about lunch, I totally forgot."

"No problem, big guy. Also, quit the bullshit and just admit that you got all squishy feely about leaving Alphonse here by himself, calling me to make sure he was all right." Al felt a hand patting his back before the bespeckled man also gave the colonel a pat on the head, as he strolled mundanely out of the hospital, whistling cheerily on his way out.

Alphonse looked on, as the tall man walked off as if nothing in this whole brutal world could ever touch him, even with such a loving family combined with such a dangerous job. His thoughts were quickly pulled aside though, as he grew more concerned about the agitated look on the colonel's face. Something told him that it had nothing to do with an unwanted picture update or the unmasking of his stunt.

"Alphonse," Mustang addressed him, gloomy eyes burying into his hazel. "Have you talked to Ed's doctor?"

"N-no," Alphonse stuttered. "Nobody has talked to me. Not since they sent me out of his room. Has something happened?"

"The hospital called me ten minutes ago. He's gone into septic shock."

Alphonse looked at the older man in disbelief.

_He was right here. He was right fucking here, and they didn't even bother to tell him._

_Well, fine. If they really wanted him to lose his cool so-damn-much, they had finally succeeded. _

* * *

**Thank you guys so much for reading! Please leave a review and let me know how I'm doing! This story isn't proceeding how I planned it, but I needed to change _something _to get inspired again!**


	17. Chapter 17

**Just going to put this out straight away: I am **_**not **_**a medical professional so any medical mumbo jumbo I come up with is just what I've gathered from my understanding of what I've been reading up on. So, for any medical "advice" in this story, add an "I think, probably" or "maybe".**

**...just don't try to apply it in real life.**

* * *

Alphonse's speed surprised the frantic Colonel, as the compact boy sprinted past him, headed for his brother's room. Only Roy's arm was able to grace Alphonse's own, in an attempt to slow him down. Alphonse didn't seem to notice, as he disappeared down the corridor.

Instead, Roy followed him, hoping to at least be able to console him whenever he inadvertently would see something he would wish he hadn't.

"Alphonse, wait-" he called, but the boy slammed the door of the stairwell behind him. Taking two steps at the time, he cleared the steps in seconds, pulling himself upwards using the banister.

Soon, he was standing outside the hospital room and flung the door open. Paralyzed, he watched the white-clad medical personnel hectically moved around the bed, yelling orders and moving his brother's limp body to get better access. All he could make out of Edward's broken body was a head of blond tusts, shifting behind what seemed to be a doctor or a head nurse.

"His blood pressure is dropping," a different nurse informed, monitoring his vitals informed with a sense of urgency, just as Alphonse was discovered. The said nurse approached him with a stern expression.

"You can't be in here," she said determinedly and started to close the door in front of the startled teen. Al quickly shot his foot out, jamming it in between before the nurse was able to shut it completely like he had seen Roy do earlier that same day. The nurse looked at him in disbelief, about to remove her facemask when Roy caught up to him.

"Alphonse," he said pleadingly between breaths, grabbing his shoulder tightly.

"No! I want to stay with him. Please-" Al begged, moving his body, trying to get past the woman who was covering his view.

"Alphonse!" Roy suddenly barked, snapping Alphonse out of his frenzy. He turned to look at the older man, eyes threatening to overflow. "Stop it, _now."_

Roy inhaled deeply, calming himself. "You're not helping. You haven't even washed your hands! Your presence could literally _kill him."_

Alphonse stared back, unable to move. Incapable of uttering a single word. The nurse seized the opportunity to close the door. Alphonse instinctively raised his hand to stop her, but he froze in place with his hand against the door.

"Alphonse, I'm sorry-" Roy started, hand still clutching his shoulder in comfort, but Alphonse shrugged him off.

"Get the hell away from me," he whispered venomously and marched off down the hallway, unceremoniously slapping at one of the paintings that decorated the barren walls, leaving it crooked in an under-climatic matter.

* * *

Roy lost track of Alphonse quickly. He purposely gave the boy a head start, thinking he might need some time to himself before changing his mind and following him into the stairwell. He spent the better part of half an hour searching the lower stories before he got a gut feeling and entered the escalator. He took a quick glance over the buttons, finally pressing the button for the top floor. A couple of seconds later, the elevator shakily started its ascent and Roy stood restlessly, tapping his leg.

After exiting, he looked around the loft, quickly finding the door leading out onto the roof. He had spent many hours up there before, either waiting for news about injured subordinates or hiding from the doctors when committed himself. All though he preferred the hiding spot in the summer, he guessed the weather couldn't be helped. It wouldn't be unlikely for Alphonse to have noticed the roof terrasse from the street when arriving at the hospital, figuring it would be a good spot to hide.

Pushing the heavy door aside, Roy felt the freezing breeze scratch at his cheeks. He realized that it had started snowing again as the flakes ruffled his already messy hair.

Huddled up under the roof of a small shed placed in the middle of the terrasse, stood Alphonse with his woolen trench coat wrapped tightly around him. He had popped up the collar, protecting his neck from the icy wind.

Roy tucked his hands into his pockets, nonchalantly strolling through the several inches of snow that had gathered on the stone flooring, coming to a halt beside the restless teen. Before speaking, Roy noted with a hint of amusement, that the younger Elric brother was nearly as tall as him, which must have driven Edward absolutely crazy. His mirth was cut short though, feeling the sinking sensation of guilt settling in his stomach, remembering why they were there.

Alphonse breached the silence with a heavy sigh before he spoke. "How could this have happened?" he muttered quietly. "An hour ago- everything was great. We were in Central, _the big city, _with the tall buildings, fancy coffee shops and bookstores with more books than I've ever seen gathered in one spot my entire life_. _I'd gotten my brother back, even if it was under unfortunate circumstances, but you know, he was on the mends. Then, suddenly, he seemed a bit sicker and now... he's fighting for his life, _again._ Just like when we got the call from Central. _And now I might lose him._"

He slowly sunk into a crouched position, but Roy followed him down, stopping him before he could hit the ground and get his bottoms wet.

"Come on," he said, rubbing assuring circles on his back. "Let's get back inside. I don't want you to get sick too. How 'bout I'll buy you a crappy cup of coffee?" he suggested. When Alphonse didn't answer, Roy added, "or some hot chocolate?"

Alphonse hesitated somewhat and finally answered, "I've always had a sweet tooth."

Roy chuckled lightly, patting his back encouragingly and helped him back up. He kept his arms around his broad shoulders as they re-entered the hospital, getting back inside the elevator.

* * *

Roy and Al were seated on the same uncomfortable plastic chairs as before in the waiting area, each with a hot beverage in heat resistant cardboard cups in hands. Roy seemed tired, maybe even a little scared.

_Oh, how Al wished he didn't look scared. _

Adults were supposed to have a reassuring presence, to reassure the kids that everything would be okay and have everything under control. Especially if they were wearing a freaking military uniform! But Roy did nothing of the sort at this time. He looked just as worried, and maybe even more than Al at the moment.

"I thought he was safe," Al said while blowing on his drink, still waiting, _hoping,_ for Roy to change all of this with those simple words to let him know that this wasn't as bad as it seemed.

Instead, Roy sighed heavily, stroking his fingers through his raven hair. He seemed to crumble in his seat at Al's inquisitions while resting his head in his hands and rubbing at them vigorously. "I'm not a doctor, Alphonse. I don't know."

_No! That was _not _what he was supposed to say!_

Something burning in Al's chest that had been burning since he left Ed in the room with that useless nurse, just as Edward seemed to have taken a turn for the worse, was boiling, sizzling in his chest and hazing up his vision and he wanted to _hit_ something. Just leave _some sort of destruction_ in his path as a statement to show that he was _mad _and _frightened _and he- he... had _just _gotten his brother back.

"I guess it's because of the missing limbs," Roy suggested hesitatingly. He hadn't noticed Alphonse's growing frustration, or, blatantly ignored it. "I don't know much about this stuff, I guess you're more of an expert than me. But, I do know that his immune system is greatly affected by it."

'_Yeah, he was totally right,' _Alphonse thought. Roy didn't say anything else, once again lost in his own self-destructive and toxic mind. Alphonse felt bad for being insensitive. Roy was going through this just as much as him. He had no right to expect him to handle this any better than he did.

"Also, he's really thin," Alphonse said gruffly. He shrunk as the dark-haired man looked at him, feeling small and fragile under the older man's stern gaze. "I- I mean, he's at high risk for any kind of infection already, being an amputee. But his body also seems really weak," Alphonse elaborated. Roy looked like he wanted to object, but Alphonse decided to be strong, tougher- for Edward, so he ignored him.

"If he had been back home in Risembool, he would have gone through excessive physical therapy since he got back from the hospital as soon as possible after the fire, to strengthen his body as well as his immune system. Also, there's a strict diet. It's really important. With how hard it has been for him to rid himself of the fever and... and how fragile he looks- he's probably really malnourished. It doesn't seem like there has been done any kind of training or medical treatment- actually, _any_ kind of treatment at all."

"Also, there's the way he wraps his arm around his food when he eats," Roy mused, almost absentmindedly, without finishing the thought. He didn't have to.

_"Yeah," _Al realized reluctantly. "_Nothing _has been done to better his physical health. In fact, it almost seems that they've done everything wrong. As if," Alphonse paused, lost in his own train of thoughts. "...as if, they did it on purpose."

That piqued Roy's interest as he hummed a questioning noise. Al's eyes went wide at his own realization and he didn't even notice how his fists clasped so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

"They did it on purpose!" Alphonse exclaimed horridly, staring daggers into Roy. "Everything that has been done for him, is the absolute _opposite _of what Granny would have done! Someone that knows _what _should be done, must have been involved! Roy, they hurt him intentionally!"

Roy paused for a moment, clutching his cup tighter, almost spilling the steaming liquid over the edge from the added pressure. He didn't want it to make sense. _The world couldn't be that cruel._

_Unfortunately, he knew that it was. He was one of the reasons for it to be that way after all._

"Alphonse, that... No, that can't be it." He shook his head but knew he mostly tried to convince himself.

"Yeah, it is! I'm going to prove it!" Alphonse raised his voice, getting up from his seat and earning some unnerved stares from onlookers.

"How are you going to do that?"

"I have no idea! But I'm going to make it right! For brother!"

Roy let out an exasperated exhale. "It's been a long day," he started.

"I don't care. I'm not tired," Alphonse argued.

"Please, just leave it until tomorrow. Go back to the hotel, get some dinner, get some sleep and spend time with the rest of your family. They're probably worried about you, and they need to know what's going on."

"But-"

"I'm serious. I'll take a look at it, okay? I need to get back to the office and get some work done anyway. The hospital has the number to your hotel, they'll call if anything happens."

Al seemed to deflate, finally letting the weariness wash over him.

_And again, he couldn't do anything to help Edward. Couldn't even hold his hand as he fought for his life! He was such a useless brother._

Just as they were about to leave, the same nurse that had kicked Alphonse out of the room a little bit earlier, entered the waiting room, exchanging a few words with the receptionist, who pointed towards the two about to leave and turned to catch them before they could exit.

"Colonel Mustang, Mr. Elric," she called, quickly catching their attention. "I'm glad I caught you. We were able to stabilize Edward a short while ago. I'm so, so sorry about all of this. I can't quite explain how the infected could have gotten this bad," she said sadly and sent a compassionate look towards Alphonse. "He was getting all his medication and we caught the initial infection before it could get too severe. This is a military hospital, so we're under extremely strict rules about cleanliness and thoroughness. No one has a good explanation of what happened. We have changed his antibiotics now and given him a shot of adrenaline. We're also keeping him on steroids and vasopressors. He is still unconscious and very weak, but he'll probably appreciate it if you're there when he wakes up, Mr. Elric. He's probably going to feel pretty sick, and really scared, the poor thing."

Alphonse nodded without a word, serious and urgently, giving Roy a questioning look.

"I'm glad to hear it," Roy said with a faint smile. "I really need to get back, but please, call me if anything changes."

Roy watched as Alphonse left with the nurse with growing anguish in his abdomen. He wanted to come with them, stop Alphonse from doing anything rash and to hold Edwards's hand and whisper in his ear that everything was going to be _okay_ until he was out of the woods.

But, that wasn't his job. He had his brother to do that now.

_There was no reason for him to stick around._

* * *

It was getting late, the clock nearing nine in the evening. Roy was still in his office, mindlessly turning the pages of paperwork that was supposed to be finished days ago. He had retrieved one of his cheap bottles of late-night-office-whiskey's from his desk drawer, realizing that he soon needed to get another bottle.

He filled his glass the fourth or fifth time, maybe it had been more but it didn't really matter. He had already decided to leave his car at the HQ, getting a cab home. Or, he would sleep on his strategically comfy leather couch. It wouldn't be the first time.

_Goddammit. The books Edward had gotten from the library was still on the floor next to it._

He couldn't even turn his head without being distracted by the brat. The knot in his stomach tightened as he thought about curling up under the same blanket as Edward had gotten cozy under, those long days while being stuck at in his office while Roy was working. How in the world such a hyperactive kid could be so content with a couple of books in this monotone office environment didn't cease to amaze him.

Roy's hand brushed against his telephone, contemplating if he should call Alphonse at the hospital to see how it was going, but he changed his mind.

_The nurse had made sure to set up a bed for Alphonse in Ed's hospital room, after making sure that the teen was properly sterilized so he wouldn't prove a risk for Edwards recovery. Hopefully, he was getting some sleep._

_Sleep sounded good about now._

His eyelids were growing heavy as he felt the heat of strong liquor spread over him like a warm blanket. His eyes trailed over his unfinished paperwork again, getting them caught on the Edwards still lingering file. The graphic details of his injuries from the fire were still actively buzzing through his mind, but for some reason, it still kept calling out to him time after time. He kind of hoped he had overlooked something, while at the same time, hoping he had not.

Just as he had gripped the folder, a knock came on his door. Tired eyes looked up, reluctantly inviting the visitor in. He half-expected the barrel of Riza Hawkeyes gun to peek inside, while also longing for her warm hands to stroke passionately through his hair, letting him forget about everything and be selfish for just a little while.

_Never would Roy Mustang be that lucky._

A head of hair as black as his own and green eyes behind prescribed glasses of long-sightedness peered at him with a sad smile, closing the door behind him as he entered. Maes Hughes sniffed suspiciously, getting the sniff of the cheap alcohol on Mustang's breath. Not that he was trying to hide it.

"That's a good idea," was all he said, moving his hand from behind his back, revealing another bottle of Roy's much-preferred brand of whiskey and placing it on the wooden desk between them, pulling up a chair and got seated.

Roy dropped the folder, smirking crookedly. "I don't think I tell you often enough what a great friend you are."

"You sure as hell don't," the tall man answered while helping himself to Roy's own drink, downing it in one gulp.

"Help yourself," Roy mumbled sarcastically, opening his desk drawer again and getting himself a new glass.

Maes stifled a burp and grimaced, eyeing the empty glass in distaste. "I thought you had better taste than this, old friend."

"Shut up. I save the good stuff for especially bad days."

"And today isn't?"

Roy decided not to answer, but instead helped himself from the new bottle, deciding it would be answer enough. Taking a sip, closing his eyes in momentary pleasure, he figured it was time change the subject. "So, how did you know I was here?"

Maes filled his own glass too. "I can see the lights from your office from the street," he explained, gulping down the burning liquid. Roy looked at him with skepticism, resting his cheek in his hand. Maes gave in. "Also, I went to your house. When you weren't home and didn't answer the phone, I called Riza. She told me what had happened."

Roy nodded thoughtfully, knowing he was about to get yelled at for keeping this from him.

"Why didn't you tell me when I stopped by the hospital today? You know I don't like you dealing with shit like this on your own-"

"I'm not dealing with anything," Roy interrupted bluntly, a bit more harshly than he meant it. He cleared his throat to calm himself, changing his tone. "Believe me, I'm okay. I'd be more worried about young Alphonse."

Maes looked peeringly at him for a moment. "I know how your mind works, Roy. Your conscience can be pretty scary."

Roy rolled his eyes obviously. "Don't go there Maes, not tonight. I'm fine, I promise. I'm just... worried about the little shit."

"Roy!" Maes scolded, giving Roy the reaction he wanted, releasing some of the tension a little, at the price of a quick whack across the head.

_Not the gentle touch from Hawkeye he had hoped for- but at least it wasn't a gun barrel._

* * *

An hour passed and speech got more and more slurred. Maes had finally decided that he needed to call Gracia to tell her where he was, using Roy's office phone. He explained that he would be a little late and she should go ahead to bed without him. As the call turned a bit too gooey, Roy quickly slammed down the circuit, cutting off the call to Maes clear amusement, laughing manically and drunkenly, slamming his hand on the desk.

In his childish glee, he managed to knock over his glass, spilling the contents all over the paperwork. Panicked, Roy started to clear his desk while Maes threw his jacket off, starting to dry the soaked papers with it.

Roy looked down at his desk in disbelief, stroking his fingers through his hair and cursed loudly.

"Oh god oh god oh god oh god," he repeated to himself, taking over Maes make-shift cloth, realizing that if Hawkeye wouldn't shoot him on sight, Fuhrer Bradley would certainly execute him publicly for this. Maes continued giggling himself silly, lowering his mouth to the desk and trying to slurp up the liquor, receiving a dunk with a clenched fist on top of his head from the colonel, resulting in his face smacking on the surface.

"Oh come on, relax Roy-boy," he chuckled while rubbing his now sore chin. "I'm sure this isn't the first time the Fuhrer has received official documents marinated in alcohol. It's not the end of the world."

Roy didn't answer though, recognizing a perticulair manilla folder in the middle of the mess.

"No!" he yelled, picking it up and waving it around frantically to airdry it. The change of urgency made Maes snap back to the now, looking at Roy uneasily.

"What's going on?" he asked, snatching the folder out of Roy's hands and looking at it. His expression turned more serious, understanding why his friend was freaking out. "Damn, I'm so sorry, Roy."

"I need to dry it off," Roy rambled, getting it back and ruefully got down on his knees, opening the folder and carefully prying the pages apart, weary not to tear anything and laid them down in a row on the carpeted floor. Maes got down to help him out, swiftly looking over the pages and making sure that none of the text was smeared.

Roy kept working with gentle hands while Maes got lost in the pages. His forehead got a deep furrow, as he lifted one of the pages to look at it more thoroughly, absently reaching his hand out and pricked Roy's shoulder, successfully getting his attention.

"Roy, Roy," he called until Roy was able to tear himself out of his frenzy, giving the Lieutenant Colonel the attention he wanted. "Does the name Dr. Isla Lucy ring any bells?"

Roy paused, blinking rapidly as he slowly recognized the name. "Yeah, that's Edwards doctor at the Military Hospital," he said hesitantly, matching Maes worried expression but with a bit of confusion. That wrinkle on his forehead usually didn't mean anything good.

"Yeah, that's what I thought," he said, turning his gaze back at the piece of paper.

"Why do you ask?"

Maes didn't answer, instead, he itched his jaw while he grumbled audibly and re-read the document for the umphed-time.

"Do you by any chance have Van Hohenheim's military folder available too?"

Roy arched his brows, but got up off the floor, unlocking a locked archive drawer behind his desk and searched through it. He grabbed one thick and one slender file, tossing it to his taller comrade.

"Hohenheim is the thick one, also, the smaller one is Alphonse Elric's," he explained, watching the theoretically gifted man getting to work.

After a short while, he gave a triumphant noise, clearly finding what he was looking for, but, not being happy about it. "I don't know if you know this, but Van Hohenheim worked closely with my department before he got ill," he explained, laying the folder out. "It was very sudden and very unexpected. One day he seemed perfectly healthy and the next, he was dying. When he first got sick, the process was quick. They never found out what was really wrong with him. It just seemed like his body withered,_ visibly_ withered. Most likely some kind of poison, but nothing was detected under the autopsy."

Roy looked at him suspiciously. "Maes... where are you going with this?"

First, Maes handed him Hohenheim's medical documents. Roy read it carefully, noting he had the same doctor as his son. Nothing too strange, as they had been committed only a year apart, and Dr. Lucy had at least twenty years of experience.

"There might be some kind of alphabetical order to the distributions of patients, both Edward and Alphonse have the Hohenheim name as well. They just don't use it," he thought out loud, receiving the next document from Maes.

It was still soaked in alcohol but was completely comprehensible. It was from the Risembool Medical Centre, 12 years ago, and Roy knew the information as the back of his hand. Except for _one _thing, that he had overseen before.

Alphonse's words were echoing through his mind.

_'They did it on purpose!'_

_On the bottom of the page, the document was signed by Dr. Isla Lucy._

* * *

**Soooo sorry for another open ending. If I didn't stop here, the chapter would have turned out way too long! Anyway! I hope I still have your attention! Please leave a comment/review/Kudo, depending on where you're reading this!**

**I'll probably concentrate on a new chapter of my other ongoing FMA story, Just a kid next- but hopefully, I'm able to update this too soon! If you enjoyed this fic, please check it out!**

**Thank you so much for reading and stay awesome!**


	18. Chapter 18

**Hey! Another long wait... I wish I was able to upload more often, but this chapter was really difficult to figure out because I goofed myself _hard _in the last chapter.  
****  
I had a clear idea of what would happen next, but once I actually started writing it- some significant plotholes appeared and I realized how complicated I had made things for myself. But, I **_**think **_**I'm hopefully unraveling the knots and patching up the holes okay.****  
**

**Thank you so much to Joker Oak, who I reached out to, to bounce some ideas off of. I really appreciated your input!**

* * *

_Resembool, December 1903  
_  
A man that hadn't set his foot in the small village in a year, stepped out of the afternoon train. It had been an unusually dry autumn, but a chilling gust of wind still made him pop up the collar of his brown trenchcoat.

He only held a single suitcase, and with heavy footsteps, he trotted determinately across the small platform and ignored the confused stares that followed him through the dimly lit streets. It was getting dark early this time of year, but it only helped him blend in with the shadows.

A couple of people tried to greet him, but he paid them no heed as he walked with fast paces towards the Resembool Medical Facility.

The news from Resembool usually didn't spread as far as Central, but when a mother had passed away and her two young children had suffered life-threatening injuries in a major house fire, even the Central news found it important enough to report about.

He hesitated for a moment as he stood, peering at the semi-large building. It was a large structure for this small village, but nothing more than the size of an average apartment complex in Central, where he had resided for the past year to finally conduct the top-secret mission he'd been working on, for a long time, for the Amestrian Army.

The relationship between Amestris and Drachma had been strained for years, and the Amestrian Army was making preparations in case of an invasion. Hohenheim had gotten the impression that Fuhrer Bradly wanted to hit them first, but also knew that several people on the Amestis Cabinet of Defence were strongly against it. If Bradley wanted to secure his reign over Amestris through another term, he would have to go with what the majority wanted.

So instead, they wanted Hohenheim, a retired but renowned strategist, to come up with a plan on how to reduce the probability of an attack from their neighboring country.

He had developed a plan to destroy a small village called Akinevo. It was a secluded and isolated place right on the border between Drachma and Amestris. While the larger part of it was in Drachma, they didn't appear to have an overwhelming loyalty towards either country.

But, it would be the most strategic place for a Drachman supply route, and destroying the village would make it much harder to smuggle provision and weapons for the probable attack.

The job was now completed, and he only had a couple of weeks left with paperwork before he could move back home when this disaster struck.

He took his glasses off to rinse them on the bottom of his shirt before he placed them back onto the bridge of his nose. The cool fall air had made them fog in contrast to the warm, salted water that threatened to spill down his cheeks.

The steadfast man refused to let them. He hadn't cried since the day his family and himself had taken the last picture of all of them together. _The last there would ever be. _It was a rare event, which would _not _repeat itself in any other circumstances than today, he decided then and there. Nothing else would ever be important enough to shed a tear for.

_Or so he though._

He tightened the rubber band on his long ponytail before he entered the facility.

Once inside, time seemed to stop as he walked with decisive strides towards the reception desk. The sterile, grey room was mostly empty, and a cold environment greeted him somberly.

"I wish to see Edward and Alphonse Elric," he rumbled harshly. The young nurse looked at him in an indecipherable way, before recognition seemed to dawn upon her. Her smile was strange, as she rose from her seat and excused herself, uttering a weak, "One moment, please," before she disappeared down the long corridor.

'_Okay,' _Hoenheim thought. He could certainly give her one moment, but he felt as if something was off. His suspicions only grew when the nurse didn't return alone. A short woman with drab blonde hair tucked tightly into a bun and wearing blue-framed glasses walked collectedly behind her.

"Mr. Elric," she stated in a monotone voice, peering up at the intimidating figure in front of her, without looking overawed one bit. She gently adjusted her glasses.

"Hohenheim," he corrected her curtly, in no way in the mood for any pleasantries. He half-expected her to apologize, but when her narrow lips only seemed to sour even more, he knew he didn't like this lady one bit.

"I am doctor Isla Lucy. I was responsible for your family when they were brought in. I would like you to accompany me to my office, please."

The burly man hesitated for a moment but followed her as she started walking back the way she had come from. At the end of the hallway, she unlocked a door with her name on it and invited him inside.

"Sit," she said briefly and extended her hand towards the seat in front of her sparsely wooden desk.

"I rather stand," Hohenheim answered, expression unchanging but with a growing uneasiness unveiling itself in his stomach. The refusal of what apparently had been very forced hospitality didn't help the pressing mood.

"Very well." Her voice seemed strained and edgy. "It is never easy to give a parent these kinds of news, but..." she paused, peering up from pieces of paper and assessing his reaction. His eyes were dark, fists clutched by his sides and he subconsciously started to grind his teeth. She lowered her gaze, trying too hard to look sympathetic.

"I am very sorry Mr. Hohenheim. But Edward and Alphonse, unfortunately, succumbed to their injuries during the night." She stole a short glance towards the domineering man. His demeanor was unchanging even after the news, and she knew she had succeeded in hurting him.

She quelched a smile at the sight.

* * *

A circus of thoughts and emotions raged inside of Hohenheim as he walked the long hill to the site of where his house used to be. The house his beloved, late wife and he, had spent the majority of their lives together. Where his first son was born, then, merely a year later, his second son.

The house where Edward had punched a hole through his bedroom door in a fit of rage over something that apparently had been very important to him, which Hohenheim regretfully couldn't remember, and where there was still supposed to be stains on the bathroom floor from when Alphonse suddenly had discovered his artistic abilities _(or rather, disabilities)._

The house with the kitchen he had gotten down on one knee and asked his beloved Trisha to marry him. The living room with the fireplace the two had made love in front of, countless of times.

The same fireplace that had consumed their house, _their home,_ and killed his entire family with it.

_Never in his life had he thought he would outlive them all. He was fifteen years older than Trisha, for goodness's sake. He had never even considered that... that..._

Stunned, he stood at the top of the hillside and watched the shattered ruins of his life. Happy memories getting clouded and colored with grief and resentment in shambles of ashes.

_He had never considered that he would have to live the remainder of his life without them._

_And in the end, that's what he did._

* * *

He laid in the hospital. What had started out as a cold had turned into a severe case of pneumonia. He didn't take care of himself, he couldn't see the point. He buried himself in his work, because he might as well help as many people as he could, to make up for the three people he was supposed to protect- but couldn't.

He had already broken too much- what he would be remembered by, was a great strategist. But he knew the truth- he had been out there, destroying families- just like his own, in the great name of King Bradley.

He was bearly coherent. His condition had worsened considerably since he was committed. His breath was ragged and he was coughing blood and his body was deteriorating. His doctor seemed strange and cold as she gave him his death sentence. Something about her seemed familiar. Unfriendly. The last days of his life he was babbling incoherently. The last couple of minutes before his body finally gave out, it all became clear.

"You," he wheezed.

She gave him a cold smile, injecting one last shot of poison into his body.

"It's common for the dying to regain their senses a short moment before they die," she said cooly and sat down on the chair beside his bed.

"What are you injecting me with?" he inquired furiously, but without the bite, he had hoped for.

"Methanol," she explained curtly, disposing of the needle into a small crate by the sink of the hospital room. "The official cause of death will be kidney failure. You're a sickly old man, no one will question it."

"Why are you doing this?" he asked weakly as the world was starting to dissolve around him, his vision fogged up and mind quickly turned more sluggish.

She laughed half-heartedly, settling down at the still unvisited chair by his bedside. "Oh, Hohenheim," she stated, adjusting herself to sit more comfortably. "I too know a thing or two about being alone. About having my home forcefully taken away, my life partner... my children."

She turned silent for a moment before she continued.

"We had a beautiful house, just outside of the center of our village. A swingset in the yard and a small vegetable garden. My husband and I worked long and hard to build our dream home, and with our two _perfect _children, we build our _home."_

She looked glassy-eyed at the dying man in the bed in front of her. The heart monitor was beating less frequently. _It was almost over. _

"Their names were Terrence and Eric. Boys, nine and almost twelve. But then, _you _came into our lives."

"I have no idea what you're talking abou-"

"-and _that's _the worst part. You have _no idea _how your _job _affected others. All you see are nameless victims, an _order _to be followed, a _strategy _to act out. Akinevo was a _peaceful _place. Completely impartial to either Drachma or Amestris. And you- you _destroyed _it. Burned it to the ground, killed entire families- _children, _Mr. Hohenheim. You _killed_ _my children._"

Hohenheim couldn't respond. His breathing was labored and it was a struggle to catch each breath.

"I _watched _you give the orders. I was out, trying to treat the injured Akinevians when you _bombed our house. _And I was too late... I saved several lives that day, but I couldn't save my own family."

Between the beads of sweat that ran down Hohenheim's feverish face, Dr. Lucy couldn't see the tears blending in seamlessly into the wet trails each time he blinked. His struggling lungs couldn't utter the words he most of all wanted to say to her.

He wanted to tell her that he was sorry, and that it was _okay. _That he knew. He knew what he had done. How much he had destroyed. Was there one person inside that room who deserved to suffer, it was him and he wished that him dying would bring peace to her shattered heart.

But he knew it couldn't. He could not redeem himself even in death, and that was his own fault.

And fifteen minutes later, he took his last dying breath.

* * *

Lieutenant Colonel Maes Hughes and Colonel Roy Mustang were in a cab within five minutes of their discovery. Even if both of them had sobered up quickly at the ominous realization of what they had found in the old files, none of them felt confident to drive, and walking would take too long.

Before leaving, Roy had made a quick phone call to Riza, sighing in relief when she picked up and asked her to dig up all files she could find on Dr. Isla Lucy. She obliged with no questions asked, and the two military officers were out the door with their winter coats flying behind them, still getting dressed.

If this doctor really had something to do with Hohenheim's death, both of the brothers might be in great danger right now, so there was no time to lose.

Roy barked the location they were heading at the chauffeur and told him in his most commanding voice to _step on it. _They quickly closed the distance between the HQ and the hospital, with Roy on his way out of the car before it was even able to park. Maes apologized and grossly overpaid the driver before heading into the after his long-time comrade.

Within five minutes, they burst into Ed's hospital room.

* * *

Edward had woken up about an hour ago. He still felt sluggish, and very nauseous. He had gotten something for the pounding in his head, which seemed to be working, and his stumps weren't aching as much as they had done when he first woke up.

From time to time, he caught himself falling back to sleep, but only for a couple of minutes at the time. Every time the lights went out, he would have dreams about Alphonse, that he was alive, and then, he would remember that it was _true_, like some sort of reversed nightmare.

A good dream, perhaps. He'd never had too many of those. When he did, he would usually just wake up with a small ignition of hope in his heart, just to have it instantly die out at the realization that he was still lying on a misty, molded mattress, staring at the cracked ceiling in a grey and cold orphanage in Drachma.

Not this time. He would get so excited by the thought of Alphonse being there, that he tore himself awake just to make sure. Just to touch his brother's hand and look into his eyes, see his smile and hear his voice. Reassuring words of "you're okay, brother," or "I'm here, just go back to sleep," made him want to wake up again and again.

He had almost nodded off for the _inght _time that evening when the door was thrown open. Both of the brother's jumped at the sudden, loud noise. Edwards eyes flew back up and he winched slightly at the abrupt movement, while Alphonse quickly stood up, looking at the door, fists clenched and ready to protect his brother.

"Edward?" mustang panted panickily and looked around the room, checking if they were alone. "Are you okay?"

Maes was acting calmer. He looked at high alert, but clearly assessed the situation as safe, for now.

Quietly, he raised a hand and grabbed Roy's shoulder, getting his attention. They seemingly communicated something with their eyes. Roy looked at the taller man, nodding understandingly before turning back towards the unsettled brothers and cleared his voice.

"Edward, I'm happy to see that you're doing better. But I do have something really important to ask you." He looked towards Al and added, "You too."

Alphonse had a quizzical look on his face as he settled back beside Edward, while a furrow buried its way between Ed's eyebrows, feverish eyes glaring wearily on the two men, as they got seated on the other side of the bed.

"What's going on?" Ed managed to rasp out, stifling a couple of coughs that wanted to force their way out from his still aching chest. He didn't care though. He was _sick _of being _sick_ and refused to act like it if he could help it. Also, he sensed that something was _wrong._ Not that it wasn't clear on the two officer's faces, but he was tired of all the secrets. Everyone seemed to have something they kept from him. Information about _his _life that they didn't share, as if they were _protecting_ him.

He hadn't needed protecting up to this point in his life, so why the hell was everyone starting now?

Maes and Roy exchanged looks again, hesitant. Both apparently wanted the other to start.

"Just spit it out already," Ed demanded angrily. His voice gave out before he could finish his sentence but it still held the impact he wanted.

Roy's expression was urgent as he finally spoke.

"Edward, Alphonse. You're both probably in incredible danger here."

* * *

The next hour consisted of Roy and Maes explaining their findings and their suspicions surrounding it. They told Edward about what had happened when the boys had been separated twelve years ago, about the talk they had with the social worker and why she said that they had been split up. Finally, they told them about their father's affiliation to the military, and the undeniable similarities between what had happened when Hohenheim had died, and how Edward was getting mysteriously sicker while under the care of the same doctor that had also been treating them after the fire.

Alphonse was left in shock, staring blankly in front of him and unconsciously hugging himself. He had never once thought that the world could be so cruel.

Edward, on the other hand, had enough experience to know exactly how heartless it could be. He was biting his bottom lip bitterly, clear heavy breathing visibly raising and lowering his chest. For once, not because of the sickness. He was trying to suppress his anger.

"Have you received any medication from Dr. Lucy today?" Maes asked intently, locking eyes with Edward. Ed half-turned his head slowly, before shaking it.

"No," he uttered darkly. "She apparently has the day off."

"Yeah, it's mostly been nurses," Al added shaken.

"Good," Maes answered immediately. "We'll have to talk to anyone who's been dealing with Ed since he got here," he directed towards Roy, who silently agreed. His arms were crisscrossed across his chest, his eyes closed and head turned down.

"Meanwhile, I'm moving you to the infirmary at the HQ," Roy continued firmly. "There, we know we can trust the staff, and it's guarded 24/7. But, we're not telling _anyone_, understand?" Roy kept out the part of _'so I can keep an eye on you'. _

They didn't have much of a choice, but both boys agreed right away.

Luckily, it was late in the evening. The lights around the hospital usually were shut at ten, and there was less staff present. Moving Edward undetected would be a difficult task, but not impossible. The most prominent problem was to unhook him from all the wires, that were literally sticking out of several parts of his body.

Despite being in clear agony, Edward endured it like a champ. The heart monitor was unhooked directly from the wall to make sure it wouldn't alert anyone of it being removed. Now, they just needed to get him out before somebody noticed.

Wrapped snuggly into Maes' coat, they carried Edward quickly through the narrow corridors. Maes and Edward made a point of exiting through the ER, while Alphonse and Roy left through a different door in the back.

That way, if anyone recognized them, Maes could lie and say that Elycia had been sick during the night and that they wanted a doctor to take a look at her. It would look like she was wrapped up to protect her from the cold and sleeping soundly. With Alphonse and Roy taking a different exit, they could tell anyone who was wondering where they were headed, that Roy was taking Al back to the hotel.

The hospital was mostly empty, so the effort was unnecessary and maybe a bit excessive, but they didn't want to take any chances. Not before they knew exactly what was going on. 

* * *

TBC


	19. Chapter 19

Roy groaned loudly as he woke up, huddled up in a hard wooden chair at the back of an office belonging to one of the doctors the military had on staff. His heavy winter coat fell to the floor as he stood up, stretching his back and feeling fifteen years older than he had the day before. The thought of not being twenty anymore, and that he shouldn't fall asleep on spots like that had appeared more and more often lately- despite him only being thirty. He wondered if all thirty-year-olds felt as old as he did _(excluding anyone that hadn't been at war of course). _

He took a quick moment to look in the mirror at the back of the office, making sure that he looked somewhat representable before he unlocked the door and stepped into the much more familiar hallway of the HQ infirmary.

It felt somewhat comforting to be out of the gloomy atmosphere of the hospital. This felt more like home- it was somewhere his office was only a staircase away. Someplace he trusted.

It was still early, so his surroundings were solemn and calm still. Within a couple of hours, the halls would be filled with military men and women with minor or major injuries. Doctors and nurses would walk, jog or run between patients and rooms, surgical theaters and the waiting hall where loved ones would wait anxiously for news of their spouse, child, parent or friend.

Roy had never been there himself- not that he had never been injured on the job. He most certainly had, several times. But, he had never actually been at any end of that particular double-edged sword. He didn't really have a family and his friends where all in the military. He didn't really have any loved ones, nor was he the loved one of anybody.

Not unexpectedly, Riza sprung into mind, clouding his own image as a lone wolf, but he quickly shrugged it off. He did love her. More than... more than most things. She was as much a family to him as Madame Christmas and the girls at the bar were- maybe even more.

But, if he had sustained any sort of injury that would leave him laid up in a bed at the infirmary, he didn't feel the need to call Chris. It would only worry her unnecessarily, and he didn't need her kicking down the doors and demanding to flog whoever dared to hurt her Roy Boy...

Roy smirked at the thought. He guessed, maybe he did have some loved ones after all. Not necessarily in the most conventional of ways, but being in his shoes, he should learn to count his blessings.

Blessings that seemed to become more apparent as he looked over the forms of the two teenagers, side by side and asleep in the bed in the hospital room before him.

Alphonse had huddled up beside Edward, resting his head on the same pillow as the disheveled bedhead of his older, longer-haired brother. Edward looked a lot better already, probably from not having gotten his daily dose of poisons injected into his body as he had the last weeks as he had been laid up in the hospital, under the care of the alleged murderer of his father.

A chill went down Roy's spine at that. He couldn't help but feel guilty for not noticing that somebody was hurting Ed sooner. Then again, he didn't really know what he was looking for- actually he didn't even know he _was _looking for something until Maes connected the dots back at the office last night.

...thank God for Maes' drunk, clumsy hands. He probably owed him a couple of patient minutes of looking at his family albums for that.

_(in which case he would have to buy more alcohol)._

"Kids are kinda cute when they're sleeping, aren't they?"

Roy startled, straitening his back and looking behind him in instant shock, where Riza stood with a sly smile coating her lips.

"Goddammit, Riz- Lieutenant," Roy slurred out in an annoyed tone, placing a hand on his forehead and rubbing it exasperatedly. Riza's expression didn't waver, however, and she kept her malicious smile in place while reaching him a paper cup of steaming hot coffee.

"Thought you might need it," she said calmly as Roy gratefully accepted, noting how much fresher this coffee smelled than the bitter tar he had been drinking at the hospital for the past week.

"From our office?" he asked hopefully, and she nodded serenely.

"Freshly brewed."

Roy blew away the hot steam and took a small sip, feeling his body relax momentarily as the warmth spread soothingly through his body and he sighed in appreciation.

"Maes called my home number this morning and told me what was going on," she explained. "I haven't checked in on Edward in a couple of days, so I thought I'd stop by now that his location is a bit more... convenient."

"So you're saying that you're not here to kick my ass for neglecting my paperwork?" Roy asked teasingly, but not without a hint of genuine concern.

"Don't tempt me," she warned, sending him a glance that Roy could only describe as shit-eating. "But, I think that job may fall upon Falman, Breda, Havoc, and Fury."

Roy furrowed his eyebrows as he looked at her, uncomprehending.

"It's their workload that has magically increased considerably while you've been gone after all."

"As much as I want to commend your evil genius," Roy started, the small angel on his shoulder telling him that it was his own fault that he had fallen behind on his paperwork, while the small devil on his back was making pretty compelling arguments from the other side.

"...I will commend your evil genius," he resolved. Dark charcoal eyes narrowing wickedly, a smirk tugging at his lips.

Riza smiled warmly back, before shifting her attention to the Elric brothers.

"So, how's Edward doing now?"

"Better. Much better, I think. At least he looks it," Roy answered, suddenly serious again. "I haven't actually talked to the nurses at the nightshift yet, but as far as I know, there haven't been any incidents during the night. He has already gained some more color to his face."

"It's amazing how not getting poison pumped into your body will do that," she retorted grimly, crossing her arms. Roy inhaled deeply.

"We don't actually know for sure that that's what happened," he hesitantly pointed out, even if they all knew that the new blood tests would prove them right, now that they knew what they were looking for. Riza shrugged her shoulder's lightly.

"Any news about Dr. Lucy?" Roy asked instead, realizing it was time to get back to business.

"This is a police matter now, but the last thing I heard was that they had sent out for her arrest. They'll call you in for questioning later. Edward too. And they're going to get someone to look over his blood results," she added, quietly.

"He's not going to know much more than we do," Roy said with a sour frown. He didn't want Edward to go through a police interrogation. Sure, he was getting better, but that didn't mean that he was well.

"He's the only witness there is at this time," Riza pointed out. "Without his statement, and probably a series of tests, there isn't much to go on. Hohenheim's body was cremated, they can't go back and check him for poisons now. If Edward can't give them anything, there really isn't much evidence at all."

"...I'll talk to the police," a small voice said from inside of the room. The two military officials turned their heads, looking towards where Edward had been stirred from his sleep. Alphonse was still snoring softly on the pillow beside him.

"I'm not sure I can tell them much, but..." Edward seemed a bit reluctant to finish his sentence. Worried golden eyes peered between the two officers and his sleeping brother.

"But...?" Roy tried to coax out of him as gently as possible.

When Edward was sure that Alphonse was fast asleep still, he continued.

"...but, I think I remember something. Not from now, but, you know... from before. After the fire, but before Drachma. I- I've never been sure though if those memories were real or if... it's just been part of the nightmares."

Roy and Riza stepped inside the room, trying to be quiet so they wouldn't wake Alphonse. It was clear from the anxious glances Edward sent his little brother that he didn't really want him to hear any of this.

"I can't know for sure," Edward continued, even more muted than before. "I was still so young back then, and, I haven't really told anyone, because I don't know if it's just a fragment of my imagination or if it really did happen. But, while at the hospital back in Risembool, I woke up. I didn't actually _really_ wake up, but I was aware of what was happening. I could hear things, what was going on around me. People talking over me like I wasn't even there, feel them checking my stitches or pricking me with needles. I couldn't tell them though, because it felt like my body was set in concrete or something. I couldn't move, talk or open my eyes. I couldn't even breathe by myself."

Edward's hand subconsciously brushed over his throat as the memory of the tube they had stuck down there rose to the surface.

"I was just lying there for what felt like an eternity. Then, one day, just before they transferred me to the orphanage in Drachma, I could hear a familiar voice. I- I knew it was stupid, but it sounded like... like Hohenheim. Like, _my_ _dad._"

The last word was said in barely above a whisper, and Edward shot another rapid glance towards Alphonse. When he was convinced that he hadn't woken Al, he continued his story.

"...I knew it wasn't, not really. He left, after all. But I hoped that maybe, just _maybe_, he had heard what had happened and come back for us."

A sad smile ghosted Edwards's face. He seemed to lose track for a little bit. He cleared his throat.

"Anyway, I just, I just recall the memory so vividly. I remember their voices because he was talking to someone and there really wasn't much else to focus on except for the voices around me or pain in my body. And, I thought it was a coincidence, because, I honestly thought I had dreamt it, but I think it might have been Dr. Lucy he was talking to."

Edward looked apologetically towards his two elders, almost as if searching for acceptance before casting his head and focused on his sole, bandaged hand that laid limply in his lap. For the longest time, he had been told that anything and everything he thought, felt or meant was wrong or stupid. Usually, he thought that _they_ were wrong and stupid for saying that, but knew he would get in serious trouble for pointing it out.

His ideas had gotten him nothing but grief up to this point anyway, and he had the insight to understand that if _everyone _said something- even if he disagreed, _everyone _might not be wrong- no matter how strong he felt about it and even if those everybody's were shitty, horrible people.

"You need to tell the police that," Roy said gravely.

Edward's head jerked back up, staring holes through the older man's head with brilliant oat's gold.

"B-but, I don't think... It probably wasn't-"

"No, it probably _was,"_ Roy interrupted. He peered around the room, looking for something which he spotted in one of the corners, close to a set of foldable chairs for visitors. The leather suitcase was perfectly fitted for A4 sized papers, and he efficiently searched through it with trained fingers, letting his index and pointer travel effortlessly between hundreds of pages before settling on a thick file.

"Last night, we were reading your father's file. It states that he took a leave at the end of November 1903 for an emergency visit with his family," Roy said and handed Edward the file, where he had found the page with the information.

Edward watched the piece of paper intently, his eyes darting back and forth between the lines. Roy had to admit that he was impressed by the pure speed the child seemed to read through the complicated military phrasings. It wasn't hard to notice when Edward came to the indicated paragraph, as his eyes widened considerably and his mouth formed a silent gasp.

"It _was _him? Are you telling me he was really there?" Edward asked in disbelief, forgetting about Alphonse sleeping next to him and shuddering his younger brother off where he was partially resting on his shoulder to sit up straight.

Alphonse only shifted a little, mumbling something incomprehensible and settling back onto the pillow. The poor boy was probably all tuckered out after everything that had happened and was finally relaxed (or exhausted) enough to fall into a deep sleep. In more ways than one, Roy was grateful for that. This new revelation was already difficult to digest, and he wasn't sure if this was something it was necessary for the younger Elric to know.

"He..." Edward trailed off, looking at the piece of paper with incredulity.

Something Roy hadn't anticipated, was that the teen's orbs were starting to wobble.

"...he, he was _so close..." _Edward's voice broke off into an involuntary sob. His bandaged arm was quickly there to wipe away the offending tears as they started to trail uncontrollably down his face. They came more and more rapidly while Edward wiped at them with panic, refusing to avert his eyes off the paper, fearing what would meet him once he did.

"Edward..." Riza's compassionate voice started to say, as she stepped closer with an outstretched arm, but that only triggered him to panic even further.

"Don't you dare touch me!" Edward yelled, finally rousing Alphonse. His head shot up from the pillow, looking alarmed around the room and its inhabitants.

Edward's injured hand was gripping the papers tightly, crumbling them as he stared furiously at the two other startled people in the room.

"What's wrong, Edward?" Alphonse asked worriedly, and Edward shifted his attention to him.

"Nothing! Why does everyone think that something is wrong all the time? I'm _fine!_" he yelled loudly, making Alphonse slide off the bed uncomfortably, taking a few steps back and looking at him, fear and confusion radiating from his hazel eyes. Then, Al looked questioningly towards Roy and Riza, both looking as surprised as him.

"Edward, it's okay to be upse-" Riza started calmly, which again only made Edward react more violently. His face morphed into even more of an unrecognizable angry grimace, his breath hitching and his heart monitor starting to beep more rapidly.

Before the situation could escalate, both Riza and Alphonse were being dragged out of the room. Once outside, they turned to look at the offender, Roy.

"He's stressed," he simply stated, blinking much quicker than normal.

"No shit-" Riza deadpanned as Alphonse interrupted her.

"What just happened?"

Roy shook his head, hoping some sort of answer, some sort of _sense, _would come to him.

"His files states that he has post-traumatic stress disorder, he's reacting," he explained. "I- I guess we'll explain everything to you too Alphonse, but... Edward is... just reacting right now. He- he's uncomfortable, unable to leave and process this by himself- so he probably needed us to leave. And I think we should give him space... to, to react, I guess."

Alphonse looked to Riza for confirmation, who nodded solemnly.

"But, what if he does something stupid? What if he hurts himself?"

Riza and Roy exchanged pointed looks, exchanging an inner dialog. An art learned by many years of partnership.

_'What if he does?'_

_'Then I guess you'll have to handle it, colonel.'_

_'What the hell am I supposed to do?' _

_'What did Maes do when you started acting irrationally?'_

_'...I can't confiscate the kid's gun when he doesn't have one-' _

_'Don't be **stupid**-'_

_'But I tend to be a little stupi-'_

The tiniest hint of a glare warned him about finishing that.

_'...I guess I'll handle it, then." _

"Alphonse, let's go and get some breakfast, and I'll update you. Colonel Mustang has this under control," Riza stated determinedly, guiding the teen away from the hospital room, while Al's head looked questioningly back at Mustang.

"Y-yeah, I guess I do," Mustang mused quietly and turned to walk back into the warzone.

* * *

**Thank you so much for reading! Please leave a comment. I've been slow with updates on my FMA fics lately because I've been working on a series for Bungou Stray Dogs. But I'm getting back into this fandom now, and an update for Just A Kid is probably close too if you follow that story. **

**Stay awesome!**


	20. Chapter 20

**It's a short chapter, but the ones that evolve mostly around emotions tend to be that way when I write them. It's a bit strange- about a week ago I uploaded a message on here, telling people about how something really bad happened in my life, and that uploads would probably be less frequent. I think I've updated three stories since then, which is good, for me.**

**Anyway, I really hope you like this chapter. I hope to get some comments on this, simply because I've been so down this last week and could really use a pick-me-up. I'm not usually a fan of "begging" for reviews, but I would really appreciate it. Anything that makes me smile is greatly valued these days.**

**The chapter title comes from the song Shattered by the Cranberries.**

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"Edward?" Roy called out calmly, his tone almost a bit apologetic as he returned to the room.

No one answered, and he couldn't see the kid either. Except, this time, he wasn't worried that Edward had run off. Instead, he could see his small form ducked under his blanket, fidgeting apprehensively, seeming tightly cradled in on himself. The older man chuckled when he saw it, trying to swallow the small snickers and keep them down. _ Because this was serious, but also unbearably endearing. _

"Edward, what are you doing?" he questioned calmly, stepping into the room.

The figure under the blanket shifted and Roy could see the sheet shift as his head twisted towards him, before it quickly aimed back around. After another couple of seconds, Edward muttered his response quietly.

"...nothin'," the hoarse voice spoke thickly.

"Uh-huh," Roy hummed unconvinced and carefully moved a little bit closer. Approaching smoothly, he finally sat down on the edge of the bed and eased the blanket off of a messy head of blonde strands.

Edward stared back at him, a hint of betrayal shone through those strangely bright colored eyes. Tears were streaming down his face, and he desperately tried to wipe them away.

Roy's heart split inside his chest at the sight of the broken boy and his pure, shameful and despairing wipes that forced well-deserved tears away. He couldn't help himself when he reached out and gently guided the bandaged hand away.

"Don't. It's okay if you need to cry," he said, feeling a bit silly for the sentimentality, but this was _ important. _It was important for Edward to know that his feelings were valid. Roy should know because that same problem had nearly been the end of him. He didn't want that for Edward, not after all he had accomplished despite of his undeniable hardships.

"Am _ not _ ," Ed spat, frowning deeply and turning away. "I- I mean, I don't. I don't need to cry. I'm not… _ weak _."

Edward's voice broke, and his stare faltered, unable to keep his gaze locked with Roy's. The last word had been hardly more than a whisper. As if he remembered something as he said it, and Roy could only imagine the ridicule someone breaking down would be subjected to at such an infamous orphanage as the one Ed was from.

Like so many times during the short time he had known Edward, he was eternally grateful for Chris taking him in. Obviously, she hadn't raised the most emotionally stable person either, because he was just as closed off now as before the war. But, as much as she would reprimand him after throwing a temper tantrum, or smirk at him when he had his adolescent heart broken by many, many girls, she would _ allow him _ to have his feelings. She would yell or laugh about his actions- _ never the emotions in themselves. _He had to go through a war to understand her many strange ways, but he could, with his hand to his heart, say that he was eternally thankful for it.

"It's not a weakness, it's… a reaction. A perfectly natural reaction," Roy said helplessly, wanting so bad to help the kid, but he kept being ignored. He scattered his brain for words of comfort, but he was really out of his element at this point.

"Look, there… there are so many benefits from crying when you're distressed. It… soothes your body. Tears release oxytocin and endorphins, which are scientifically proven to help with pain, both emotional and physical. Really, the best reaction you can have in this situation is to cry. You're actually doing yourself a favor."

Hesitant, Roy assessed the situation. Had his theoretical ramblings helped at all? Edward slowly turned his head towards him, scowling intently for a moment, before again fixing his gaze to the mattress below.

"...not cryin'," he muttered darkly.

Roy released a sigh and cracked his weary neck from side to side, sliding off the bed and moved onto one of the discarded chairs by the bedside instead. Crossing his arms and legs, he settled down, preparing for a long period of passive-aggressive silence.

That was probably the reason it was so unexpected when Edward started talking, shortly after.

"Before I came to Central, I hadn't cried since the day I woke up in Drachma," he murmured lowly. Roy's head snapped up in surprise but kept quiet to let the boy speak, hoping he would keep going.

"The memory is a bit clouded, but I know I was taken straight to the small infirmary we had there, since I was still in a bad way from the fire and the surgery," he said solemnly, reluctant to make eye contact. He let his long, fuzzy bangs fall in front of his face, hanging there aimlessly as he kept his head bowed, obscuring Roy's view of his facial expression.

"Also, I was _ technically _dead for a short while on our way there, I've been told," he scoffed bitterly with a tinge of amusement in his voice, as if it was no big deal. "Because apparently, you're not supposed to take a trip that lasts for several days when you're a newly amputee with severe infections in your surgical wounds."

Ed sighed, clearly steadying his breath and checking his voice before he kept talking.

"Anyway, waking up in a different place- a different _ country- _ I was… a bit stunned. I didn't understand what was going on, and I got… scared. Like, really scared."

_ 'You ungrateful, disgusting little shit. Stop fucking crying!' _

Edward winched as the memory of that tall, white-clad doctor elbowed its way into his consciousness. It hit him like a punch in the gut, and new tears started to blur his vision.

"Edward?" Roy asked concerned when the kid paused, hovering over his chair, unsure of what to do.

"I'm fine," Edward muttered, but the hand gripping his hair tightly, and his wide, unblinking eyes staring pointedly in his lap, told Roy that he was far from.

_ 'If you don't shut your mouth right now, I'll amputate the rest of your feeble little limbs, you deformed, broken little freak." _

Again, Edward jolted. The railings of his hospital bed rattled from the motion and his breaths turned strangled and strained. The grip in his hair became tighter, letting the small patches of skin visible on his fingers turn white.

"Edward, it's okay-" Roy's frantic voice was bearly audible in the thick chaos of muffled sounds that surrounded Ed. His sight dimmed, obscuring his surroundings, making them appear unfamiliar and strange. As if, he could be _ anywhere _ . Because if the place where he _ thought _ he _ was _ seemed foreign, he might as well _ be somewhere else. _

_ He could just as well still be in Drachma. In Drachma with Dr. Domenico. In Dr. Domenico's infirmary. In the bed. In the bed with the leather straps that tied him down and _ ** _ oh God no he didn't want this_ ** _ \- he didn't want this to be real didn't want it to happen and he had to stop crying because it would only give him an excuse to harm him- to punish him and hurt him and _ ** _ oh God no _ ** _ he thought he was safe don't wanna-don'wannadon'wanna please stop no- _

Strong hands surrounded him and instinctively he kicked back and tried to get away from the grip in a hopeless attempt to get away _ (nononono), _ but the arms didn't relent and he was left to squirm and shiver violently in the grip of his abuser as the panic reached its peak and loud, raspy cries of surrenders and plea's _ (pleasepleaseplease) _escaped his chest uncontrollably.

Ed wasn't scared of the _ pain. _ It was the _ shame. _ The _ shame, humiliation, and dehumanization _ of being treated like a toy. An unfeeling, soulless object that one could purposelessly and without consequence mold, break and mistreat as one's uncensored imagination desired. Give that person an unlimited amount of drugs and a scalpel as well… _ well, then you had a problem if you were at the receiving end. _

The smack was heard before it was felt. Edward shook his head from the daze with a stinging, dull burn lingering on his right cheek.

Golden, uncomprehending eyes shifted to meet intense and worried charcoal ones.

"Edward, are you with me?"

_ Roy. _ It was Roy. And Roy only existed in _ Central. _ He's _not _in Drachma and has _nothing _to do with Ed's time there. The "now" struck Ed once again; Central, Roy, Hawkeye, Havoc, the new injury, the hospital, Alphonse, Winry, Pinako, the _other _crazy doctor, the move and lastly- _ his father. _

_ -who could have put a stop to all this, if it hadn't been for Isla Lucy. _

"Y-yeah," he croaked, taking in the room anew, and turning his head to Roy- _ finally _looking deep into serene eyes, immersed in concern. "I-I don't know what happened. I just…" Edward paused, unable to puzzle together words to make a sentence.

"You don't have to explain. I know," Roy told him solemnly. Neither of the two could truly fathom what happened next. With Roy's hands resting soothingly on Edward's shoulders, they suddenly shifted, and Ed was brought into a firm embrace. Edward leaned into it willingly, letting Roy's warm, reassuring hands draw calming circles on his back. Unsteady breathing shuddered, but gradually, turned more and more even. A weak grasp gripped a hold of the back of Roy's shirt, and the young colonel closed his eyes and shifted into a more comfortable position.

"-I don't know if I'm able to talk about it," Edward murmured shakily against his chest, but Roy only stroked his callous fingers through the unruly head of hair that rested under his chin.

"You don't have to," he ensured calmly.

"I wish I could. Maybe it would hurt a little less."

"Maybe. In your own time, kid. You don't have to defend your traumas, okay? I believe you."

Abruptly, Edward turned rigid. Roy's arms faltered for a little, and he leaned back a little, making eye contact.

"S-say that again," Edward muttered with a slight arch to his eyebrows.

"Say what?" Roy questioned, "...I believe you?"

Yet, Edward just stared. As if, it was the first time in a long time he had heard something like that to him. As if it was the wrong and the right thing to say all at the same time, and Roy realized that_ tha _t was exactly the way it was.

"Edward," he said sincerely. "I believe you."

The kid was as if paralyzed. Finally, his golden irises started to wobble, and he flickered his eyelids rapidly before burying his face into Roy's crumpled shirt, shaking and sobbing uncontrollably. Roy was again seated on the soft hospital bed and scooted over as he scooped the boy up, cradling him in his arms and settled comfortably against the bed rest, letting twelve years of pain and demons spill all over his white shirt.

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**So… I just realized that the reason I felt that the name "Isla Lucy" had such a pleasant tone to my ears is that if said out loud it sounds like "I love Lucy".**

**Hah.**


	21. Chapter 21

**I DON'T KNOW WHY I WAS HAVING SUCH A HARD TIME WITH THIS CHAPTER! So sorry for the wait- I just haven't been in the mindset to write this story.**

**Just a warning though! This chapter has a cliff-hanger ending BUT I am going to update it again before next weekend. I just really wanted to update this story tonight, because I've been wanting to let you all know that this story isn't abandoned. And if I tell you that there will be a chapter before the next weekend, I will probably actually be able to do it!**

**Please follow me on Tumblr for updates on fics, so I can tell you all what's going on! I'm MissTinfoilhat on there too. Don't hesitate to message me there either!**

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Al was picking at his food. He couldn't remember ever not feeling hungry- or at least full enough to not eat _one_ more serving. Winry would sometimes mutter how she would lose her appetite when watching him cram his face full, hardly chewing before he was ready for his next mouthful. Until now, that seemed like a totally foreign concept to him.

Al had woken up by a shattered voice close to his ear and the frantic beats of Ed's heart-rate monitor picking up hardly a minute before and had still only been half-conscious when his brother had freaked out and demanded that they'd all leave the room.

Riza's firm grip on his shoulder didn't do much to calm his anguish. It felt nice to have someone trying to comfort him, but it didn't mean that it made him worry any less. From the brief conversation they had with Roy outside before he retreated to the room, it seemed like Ed was suffering from some kind of panic attack. Apparently a reaction to some unsettling news he had just received.

They were looking for an empty conference room to talk, when they ran into Maes Hughes. He was lounging in one of the comfy-looking overstuffed chairs in the waiting area looking half asleep. Raven hair disheveled, classes slightly skewed and his shirt crinkled with one of its flaps hanging sloppily at the outside of his slacks. Beneath the rumpled shirt, Al could make out the faint outlines of blue pajamas with ducklings on it.

The bespectacled man startled awake, rubbing his eyes tiredly and announced that he had brought them all breakfast. Sandwiches with cheese and ham (crust cut off), with a side of cut-up pieces of fruits and vegetables, packed neatly in small Tupperware containers. The gesture had Gracia written all over it with big bold letters.

For a moment, Alphonse had wondered if he had gotten Elicia's lunch by accident, but as he peered over towards Maes, who was chewing contently on a miniature sized carrot, he shut his mouth and tried to eat halfheartedly.

Once they were all seated at the round table in the vacant meeting room, Riza filled them both in on their tumultuous morning.

"Roy is still with him," she finished pointedly, and Al felt as if they were talking slightly over his head, but he couldn't make himself care considering the circumstances.

"Good," Maes hummed, still chewing loudly on the carrot. "He knows how to handle that kind of thing once he pulls his head out of his ass."

Al lowered his head awkwardly, feeling as if intruding on their conversation, but the two military officers didn't seem to mind that he was listening in.

"How are you holding up, Alphonse?" Maes asked, peering over at him. "It must have been quite a shock to have all of this happen in such a short amount of time. One day, you're just a kid trying to get by in school, worried about girls and homework," Maes smirked slightly, but quickly sobered as he continued, "and the next thing... well, you know; _this."_

Alphonse sighed and slid back on his chair. The abrupt start of the day still stung at the back of his eyes. His mind felt muddled and crammed, as if it didn't have enough space for him to really think. "Tired, I guess," he admitted finally.

Maes hummed lowly, looking down at his tea. He slipped two sugars into the cup, stirring it into the hot liquid. "You blame yourself, don't you?" The teen's attention snapped back at him. "For them taking Edward away."

_How does he do that?_

"You know it's not really your fault, right?" the man murmured softly into his beverage. Riza shifted uncomfortably in her seat.

"I do, I guess. But it's hard not to when Ed's the one in that hospital and not me."

"Edward doesn't blame you," Maes continued, seemingly unaffected by Alphonse's words. "If anything, he probably blames himself too."

A frown tugged at the teen's features at that, because of course, Ed would feel guilty. He had always taken the blame for all the stupid things they did as children, so Al wouldn't get in trouble. Which in turn would make Al feel bad and try to take the blame instead. Their mom would end up laughing at them while they argued about who was to blame for tearing down the laundry from the clothing line in the backyard, causing the hole in the wall, cracking the cookie jar _(the crumbs on Al's face always gave that one away)_\- and mom never yelled as long as they both promised to never do it again- they always did eventually do it again, but they really did try their best!

The bespectacled man chuckled. "You boys are so alike."

Alphonse couldn't keep away the gleam in his eyes at those words. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah. I mean, you are complete opposites, but your foundations are the same." Bright green eyes blinked behind glass, and it made butterflies flutter around in Alphonse's stomach.

Edward had always been his hero. As young as they were when separated, he remembered how brave and loving his older brother was. They fought, like all siblings, and he could be stubborn and way too impulsive sometimes, but what Maes was saying, was that their heart was the same. And Ed's heart was what Alphonse had always admired the most.

A warmth hugged his chest by the reminder that the two were part of one another and a blossoming pride that made him feel like that three-year-old again, standing amongst his friends while Edward showed them how to tie their shoelaces. It was a strange memory to recall right now, Ed had probably forgotten all about it and Al hadn't thought about it in ages, but he remembered feeling an unrelenting urge to shout that this was his big brother so everyone could hear! _His _big brother who was so smart and strong and cool and he knew _everything and were so much cooler than all the other older brothers!_

Despite how it might look right now, Al was still pretty sure that Ed could take on all of them!

"So, don't worry so much," Maes hummed warmly, blowing some steam off the hot beverage and sipping it loudly. Al's hazel gaze watched him intently for a moment before giving the older man a slight nod with a smile slowly curving at his lips.

"That's the kind of thing that gives you an ulcer," the bespectacled man preached matter-of-factly, index finger raised candidly.

At the edge of his peripheral, Alphonse could see Riza pinching the Lieutenant Colonel in the arm, rolling her eyes obviously, but his attention was fixed on the lowering door nob at the other end of the room.

The door slowly squeaked open, and the front of a wheelchair with one leg-support up, carrying a casted leg dressed in a striped, homemade wool sock peeked in. Al recognized the striped knotted rag from Granny's knitting needles_ (she had hummed happily about how convenient it was that she didn't need to make a matching pair)._

A hand reached in, accompanied by a harsh tenor voice, trying to hold the door open while uttering a few creative profanities still out of view. Quickly, Maes was on his feet, bouncing over and holding the door open with a huge grin as Roy ented, pushing Edward's chair into the crowded room.

The IV-stand was attached to a small hook on the wheelchair, and Edward had curled himself inside of a thick woolen blanket. He was shaking slightly from the chilled temperature at the infirmary, still a little feverish.

Alphonse rose to his feet at the sight of his brother being (_technically_) up and about.

"Ed!" he greeted excitedly. "How are you feeling?"

Riza started clearing some chairs away from the table to make room for Ed while Maes dug around in his bag for Roy and Ed's lunches.

"I'm all right," Edward drawled and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "Uh, and I'm sorry about earlier, I didn't mean to snap at you. It wasn't your fault."

Edward looked sincerely regretful, gaze downcasted for a moment before he dared to look directly at his little brother, a small sad smile asking for forgiveness.

"That's okay brother," Alphonse replied immediately, feeling a wave of relief wash down his back. "Miss Riza told me what happened. It really wasn't your fault either."

A short silence followed as Edward looked dejectedly into his lap. _Of course, it was his fault- it wasn't Al who had freaked out and thrown him out of the room. He was the one who was broken and screwed up- his brother had just been caught in the crossfire of one of his stupid panic attacks._

"What are you doing here?" Roy asked as he finished settling Ed's chair by the table and took a seat next to it. Hughes pushed the lunchboxes over to the two.

"First, eat."

Roy half-turned, ready to help Edward with the lid but the boy was already ripping it off with his teeth. Wide-eyed, he took in the deliciousness hiding in the red container. With no time to waste, he started stuffing his mouth.

"I see your appetite is back," Roy muttered lamely, stupified by the boy's speed. After a few mouthfuls, he felt the need to stop Edward and hand him a fork, reminding him to chew before swallowing so he wouldn't choke.

"This is amazing," Edward moaned out of breath. "I don't remember the last time I ate something this tasty."

The boy positively beamed, taking a large bite of the sandwich, overexaggerating his chewing to show Roy, who smirked approvingly. Though; he still had to give Ed a gentle push in the shoulder to make sure the moment didn't seem too mushy in front of his best friend- it appeared that Maes Hughes had gotten the notion that Roy could be persuaded into becoming a family man one day, and had obviously appointed himself as the best person to make that happen.

The young colonel watched as the others ate, being quite content with just a cup of coffee. He had never really been a breakfast person and was grateful that Maes didn't nag him because of it today.

As they finished up their meal, Maes shuffled through his briefcase, retrieving a small stack of papers that he laid on the table in front of him.

"I might as well do this now since we're all here." He paused, making sure he had everyone's attention. As soon as everybody was looking up, he proceeded, now talking in a much more professional tone.

"Yesterday, Dr. Isla Lucy was apprehended. She was interrogated as soon as they arrived at the station and-" the next sentences were as hard to get out as he had feared they would. He stared at the writing on papers in front of him, then at everyone else. Riza looked as unyielding as always, albeit a bit more rigid. Roy seemed calm and attentive but Maes knew he was biting his tongue. But it was the brothers Maes was worried about. They both awaited the news so anxiously.

"Listen, boys. Our suspicions were right. She admitted to everything... and then some."

Maes felt his throat constrict. His tea was nearly empty, so he downed the rest of it and cleared his throat. Riza was quick to fill it up with warm water from a thermos.

"The charge she was brought in with, was attempted murder. She confessed right away. To that and the murder of your father."

"Did she say why she did it?" Alphonse choked out silently.

"We will get to that. But there was a lot more to this than we had initially thought, and I think you boys have a right to know." He looked to Roy as if for permission. The raven nodded.

"Your father worked as a strategist for the Amestrian army. And, a long time ago, when the war was still waging, he was forced to make a decision. A decision that unfortunately left many people dead. Three of these people were Isla Lucy's husband and two sons."

Maes assessed the two boys warily. Alphonse frowned sadly. Edward looked emotionlessly into his lap. Almost dead.

"I think she went mad with grief," Maes muttered sadly, subconsciously touching his breast-pocket where he held his small photo-album, close to his heart.

The man sobered. "But that's not an excuse to do what she has done of course. After a few years, she had finally managed to move on with her life. She moved to a different town, got a job there… and that's where she first saw you."

Alphonse's head snapped up. "She worked at the hospital in Resembool?"

Maes nodded curtly. "Yes. She recognized your names when your mother took you for a yearly physical. That must have triggered something horrible inside of her, because…"

The way Maes stared at his hands made Roy feel sick. What was he about to tell them that was bad enough to make his friend like this? It didn't seem like him at all. Roy was about to urge him to continue, but the tall man interrupted him.

"Boys… what do you remember about the fire?"

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**New chapter up sometime before the 17th of May (which is my country's day of independence! It's gonna be weird with everything that's going on with the coronavirus).**

**I've been revisiting the earlier chapters on ao3, but I'll start fixing them on here too pretty soon!**

**Stay safe!**


	22. Chapter 22

**It's a shorty, but it felt done. Really, it just seems like the real ending to the previous chapter. I wasn't able to get anything written to the date I had set to publish this, but life just doesn't always give you the right tools for your creativity to flourish (as in, I've felt beat to shit and have been in a crappy mood).**

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"No," Ed said determinedly, stare aimed keenly onto his lap. Maes tried to muster up a wistful smile, but a sharp golden glare erased it. "That was _my_ fault. I- I sat too close to the fireplace and my blanket caught fire. That had nothing to do with her."

With a sigh, Hughes tried to elaborate. This had clearly been the wrong way to bring it up. He should have warned them first to ease the punch. "Ed-"

"I said _ no! _ " Edward raised his voice and almost startled himself, unprepared for the newfound strength after weeks of feeling weak and feeble. The strain made his lungs ache, but he did his best to ignore it. "The fire was _ my _ fault. _ I _ caused it. Mom told me not to sit too close to the fireplace but I didn't listen and now she's _ dead. _ Don't try to put the blame on anyone else to make me feel better. That woman might have done some really bad stuff, but... _not that."_

Ed's heart was racing, blood pounding in his ears. He almost felt nauseated by the whirlwind of emotions that came crashing over him. Most profound was the fear that Alphonse would hate him now that he knew the truth. That it was him. He had killed their mother and was the reason that they had to grow up as orphans.

Warily, he looked to his younger brother, scared of the loath that was sure to gaze back at him. However, Alphonse didn't look at him at all. His younger brother only looked confused, but in his deep hazel eyes were hurt and pain that twisted at Edward's heartstrings and made him want to crawl over and beg for his forgiveness and plead for him to not resent him.

This was it. He was finally about to lose the only good thing he had had for the past twelve years. The sole person he had left in the entire world. It had to happen; he knew that, and honestly, ha had been anticipating it much sooner. Edward murmured the only words he could think of to somewhat sufficiently express how bad he was feeling, "I'm sorry Al. It… it was my fault. I broke it... us... everything."

The next few moments felt like an eternity. Nobody said anything. Maes had frozen in the midst of shuffling papers, and Roy was sitting back in his chair with a tense expression. Hawkeye hadn't looked up from her coffee cup at all for the last few minutes.

Eventually, Alphonse looked up. Edward could not read his expression and was immediately struck with panic, but he choked it down and buried it deep under layers of submission and desperation. Edward hid his face in his hands and tried to breathe through it. He didn't _ deserve _ to panic right now. But he was overwhelmed by his own mind and the feelings of guilt and it _ hurt _ so ( _ sososo) _ much and he was _ scared _ and now Al would _ hate _ him and Al would-

( _ please don't leave, don't leave me, don't want to be alone again, oh god please don't go no no no you're the only one I have left please don't leave please don't please don't please don't) _

A hand on his shoulder made Edward squeak, suddenly aware that he was ranting out loud. Carefully, he removed his hands from his face and peered at the concerned faces watching him. He hated when people did that; gawk at him as if he was some kind of a freak in the circus (as if they had never seen a teenager going haywire before), and now that was what everyone did. All except...

All except Alphonse.

Edward couldn't see his brother anywhere and the terror finally broke out of his head and into his chest and rooted itself in the depth of his heart and _oh god he had made him _ _ leave- _

Two steady arms embraced his shoulders and a head of straw-colored hair brushed across his cheek. For a short moment, Edward sat stupified and wondered what was happening, until that boyish voice sounded _ (like cotton, like a warm nice blanket) _into his ear.

"I'm never leaving. We're stuck with each other now, brother."

"B-but, I," Edward croaked, but Alphonse shushed him calmly.

"Let's just hear what Lieutenant Colonel Hughes has to say, okay?" Alphonse let Edward go. Hazel eyes gazing intently into his golden, pleading for him to _ just listen _ before he decided that he was an unforgivable monster. Carefully, Edward bobbed his head. Alphonse smiled warmly, pulling a chair out and seated himself as close to the wheelchair as possible, holding onto Edwards's hand with both of his arms in a gentle grip.

Maes presented the boys with a warm smile before he cleared his throat and shifted to speaking in a more formal tone, "I didn't mean to upset you, Edward. But, have you considered that your memories might not be entirely accurate? You were very young when the fire occurred."

"I'm sure," Edward stated resolutely. "I dream about it every night."

A sad chuckle escaped the Lieutenant Colonel at that, and his manner slipped once again into a more solemn expression. "That doesn't mean that it's true, Edward. If you've been thinking that the fire was somehow your fault and been feeling guilty about it all these years, it might be your imagination morphing the reality of what happened to fit your feelings about it. The matter of fact is that Isla Lucy has admitted that she broke into your house and poured lighter fluid all over your living room."

Alphonse gasped audibly. "What?" he breathed, clutching a little tighter onto the bandaged hand he was holding. Edward suppressed a winch with a frown, opening his mouth to speak a few times before he was able to get out what he wanted to say.

"That… No, that can't be right." Swiftly, he glanced towards his brother at the edge of tears, then shifted his attention to Mustang.

"The blanket, Ed. It was probably drenched in it," the raven offered.

Yellow eyes stretched desperately. "Wait… I… no, it can't…. what? Do you really think so?"

"She doesn't have a reason to lie, Edward. We already have enough evidence to imprison her for life, and she knows that. She wouldn't gain anything from lying at this point," Hughes reassured. "Also, why would she lie about that?"

As much as Edward knew that it was true, he still had a hard time fathoming it. Yet, some part of him understood it too. A despairing mother, mad with grief, wanting to take what had been taken from her away from the man she believed took it. Hohenheim might be guilty of the crime she wanted to punish him for, but he was dead and buried now. So, did it really matter to Ed and Al if he was guilty or not?

...Edward wasn't sure. All he knew was that even if it was, he had forgiven his father. He knew now that he never abandoned them, and it broke his heart that he had spent the remainders of his life mourning their death.

He just wished he could tell their father that they were still alive. Reassured him and let him know that Alphonse was thriving and that he had never lost hope either, even as bleak as things might have seemed at times. It hurt from his shoulders to the pit of his stomach to imagine their father thinking that his children had died believing he had abandoned them. Edward hoped that their mom never saw it that way, that Hohenheim had told her what was going on and that he had left to protect them, all though he wished their parents had told them that too.

Most of all, he wanted their father to know that he wasn't mad anymore. And, how much he loved him.

* * *

**Please read:**

**This might be the second to last chapter! I think there will also be a bonus epilogue kinda thing too, but it depends. I think I wrote one a long time ago, sometime close to the first time I expressed that it was "the beginning of the end".**

**Please tell me if there is anything you want me do go into depth on. This story has been going on for over a year, and I'm really worried that I'm forgetting details that people are waiting to be resolved, and I will do my best to answer it or incorporate it into the last chapter (or epilogue).**

**I also wanted to mention that I am revisiting the first chapters, because some of them are unreadable. I originally started posting this on , and I hadn't figured out how to set up the text format properly. (I also low-key think my writing has improved, all though I wish I had as many ideas as I had in the start and also like the pace of the story a lot more back then).**


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